#like if she went into a specific room to kill she’d still have to go through all the others to get back and go to the cave

[bfdifan26]

burner fear garden

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |12|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Language, Crime Scene, Talks of Murder

Word Count: 2.9k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Sam sighed, running a hand through her hair as she stepped back into the hall. She understood where her sister was coming from, hell, she couldn’t even blame Tara. Sam would probably tell herself she was a danger and to stay away as well. She knew it wasn’t completely rational, but there was an officer right outside Tara’s room, another down the hall, and another in the lobby. There was no reason to think Tara would be in danger unless she was with Sam herself or with you.

Ghostface attacked Tara to draw Sam back to town and it worked. He then attacked you when he knew you’d be away from everyone else. So far, Ghostface’s plan has worked perfectly. This Ghostface knew who Sam’s father was, it took her reading her mom’s old diary to learn that and yet, this monster somehow found out. Then there was you, you were the daughter of Gale Weathers and Dewey Riley, Ghostface learned that before even you did. Ghostface somehow learned Gale had a child, and that child grew up to be you.

Sam knew every previous Ghostface was a part of the friend group, and the killings always went back to the very beginning. This all seemed like a lot for one of Tara's friends to plan though. Whoever did this would have had to do their research; they would have had to have connections. Gale did everything in secret with you, she even left you outside the hospital to remain anonymous, Sam couldn’t even begin to imagine how Ghostface learned that information, if they specifically went searching for some reason or they got lucky and dug from there.

You might not believe it, considering you were at the top of everyone’s suspect list, but you weren’t even on Sam’s list, not anymore. After watching you and Tara together she saw how much you loved her sister, you would literally die before you let anything happen to her, there was no way you’d ever hurt her. What really sold her was your reaction to hearing the truth, like she told Tara, you’d have to be one hell of an actor to sell that. You looked exactly how Sam felt all those years ago, your world shattering before your eyes.

Sam felt for you, she truly did. Learning her dad wasn’t her dad and her real dad was in fact a serial killer definitely sucked, it was something she’d be dealing with in therapy probably for the rest of her life. Despite all that though for the first half of her life she had a loving family, everything was perfect. You never had any of that though, you grew up knowing your family didn’t want you, you grew up alone. The only person you seemed to truly have in your life was Tara. Sam sighed; she asked you to stay away from Tara.

“You, okay?” Richie asked. Sam didn’t have time to stew in her guilt for long as she came back to reality, seeing Richie in front of her, watching her with concern all over his face.

Sam nodded, she looked around, the same officer was still outside Tara’s room, typing away on his phone. Judy was down the hall talking to another officer and pointing to your room. All of Tara’s friends had left though, just as she asked. Part of Sam wondered if she should do the same and just come back in the morning, so far, every time she visited Tara, she seemed to be making things worse.

“Want to go back to the motel?” Richie asked, giving her an awkward smile. “You need to rest, today was a lot,” he reached up and gave her arm a comforting rub.

Sam gave him a sad smile and nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered. Maybe she just needed a break, she just needed to go and sleep in an actual bed, her mind might be more at ease staying at the hospital, but she didn’t think she’d get much sleep in the waiting room chairs.

She followed Richie out of the hospital. “I’ll grab the car,” he whispered before running off across the parking lot.

Sam bounced up and down on her feet outside the hospital. She tried to ignore the fact that Dewey and Gale were clearly arguing a few feet away from her.

“You kept our daughter from me!” Dewey tried to shout but his voice ended up cracking. “Our daughter.”

“I know, I know,” Gale said. She reached out for Dewey, but he stepped away. Sam really was trying not to eavesdrop; she just couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not enough. I don’t know what else to say.”

“There’s nothing to say!” Dewey gestured widely. “I knew your career was important to you but why didn’t you say something? Out of all the ways…” he shook his head. “Why didn’t you just leave her with me?”

Gale opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I was scared.” Dewey shook his head, clearly not wanting to hear this excuse. “We had just broken up; I was in New York.”

“But you came back to town, you left her here, you-you-,” he gripped at his hair. “We could have figured something out.”

“Let me make this right,” Gale whispered, stepping closer.

Dewey looked at Gale long and hard for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not sure you can.” With that he walked off, leaving Gale to stand there crying alone.

Sam let out a relieved breath when she saw Richie pull up. She ran to the car as quickly as she could. She had enough going on at the moment, the last thing she wanted was to get caught up in your apparent family drama. She couldn’t blame you or Dewey though, Sam couldn’t even forgive her own mother for keeping her birth father a secret, she didn’t see how you or Dewey could ever forgive Gale.

Sam rested her arm on the door and her head in her hand, she stared out the window as Richie drove them to the motel. Sam had picked out the motel, it was one of the only ones in town, and she had yet to even enter the room.

“And we’ve arrived,” Richie said, breaking Sam out of her trance.

She got out of the car and followed Richie to the door. Richie opened the door, doing a little wave with his hand as he gestured inside the room. Sam smiled at his theatrics but as soon as she got to the doorway she stopped. “What’s wrong?” Richie asked.

“You know, I think I need to clear my head,” Sam said, stepping back. “I’m going to go for a drive.”

“Want me to come?”

Sam shook her head. “I think I just need some time alone.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “I won’t be too long.” She leaned forward, giving Richie a quick kiss before plucking the keys from his hands.

“Okay,” Richie said before entering the room.

Sam got in the driver’s seat of the car. She stared at the motel building in front of her, her body was absolutely exhausted, the only thing calling her name was the crappy bed she knew was inside. Her mind was going a mile a minute though, she knew she’d never be able to rest like this, she just needed to clear her head. She started the car and slowly began to back out of the parking space and turn back onto the main road.

Sam drove around aimlessly, despite growing up in the town she didn’t have a destination in mind, she just kept turning at a stop sign. She furrowed her brow when she saw blue lights flashing up ahead. She looked around, her heart picking up slightly when she realized what street she was on exactly. She pulled over on the side of the road, away from the emergency vehicles. She rushed across the street, her eyes frantically searching for a familiar face, specifically one she was desperate to see safe and sound.

There were already several police cruisers and an ambulance at the house, officers had even already taped up the scene. It hadn’t been too long since everyone left the hospital, when Sam left Judy was still there. Whatever happened had to have just occurred, the quick response of the authorities did nothing to ease Sam’s anxieties.

Sam began to go under the police tape when an officer appeared in front of her. “Sorry ma’am, this is an active crime scene,” he said, holding up his hand.

“What happened?” Sam asked, trying to see around the officer.

Sam’s eyes landed on a yellow tarp being placed over a body on the front porch. “The sheriff.”

Sam’s eyed widened, she had just been with the sheriff, Mindy said the sequel characters, as she liked to call them, didn’t matter, there was no reason for anyone to think Judy would be attacked, besides, she was the sheriff, that wasn’t an easy person to go after.

“What about her son? Sam asked, her eyes instantly scanning for him. “Wes, please, I’m a friend.” Wes only had his mom; she couldn’t imagine him witnessing this or discovering her body.

When Sam looked up, meeting the cops' eyes for the first time, she saw it on his face, she knew what his next words would be. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He turned to walk back across the lawn, back to the crime scene.

Sam ran a hand through her hair. She was just with Wes, he wasn’t supposed to be a target, there was no reason for him to be a target. Mindy was naïve enough to believe this Ghostface was only going after those connected to the first set of killings and Sam was stupid enough to believe it. Judy might not have liked Sam but without her around, the investigation would slow down even more, everyone would be more concerned with the sheriff's death than actually stopping Ghostface.

“I can’t believe you,” Sam heard a man say. She turned to see Gale Weathers walking across the sidewalk, speedily in her heels away from a news van. Dewey was trailing after her, clearly unhappy with whatever Gale was doing or about to do.

“This was the only way to come,” Gale snapped, spinning around to glare at Dewey.

“Oh, was our secret daughter being in danger not enough for you?” Dewey whispered harshly.

“I didn’t report at the hospital. I would never do that to her,” her voice cracked.

Dewey let out a humorless chuckle. “Gale Weathers putting someone else before her career? Guess that makes you mother of the year.” Dewey brushed past her, not waiting for her to say anything.

While Dewey began to talk to one of the officers close by, Sam watched as Gale ran her hands down her blazer, smoothing out any wrinkles. When Gale turned around Sam couldn’t even tell Dewey’s words had affected her, she kept her face completely neutral as she walked to a spot in front of the police tape. The only indication that Dewey’s words hit her was the way she gripped the microphone in her hands. When her camera man popped up, propping the camera on his shoulder as he pointed at her to begin, she fell right into reporter mode. She smiled at the camera and began to recount the recent Ghostface killings, effortlessly leading into the latest attack on Judy and Wes.

“Hey!” Sam shouted when she caught sight of a familiar officer. “Hey, what are you doing here?” She shouted again, finally getting officer Vincent to look at her.

“I heard the call about the sheriff,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Who’s guarding my sister?”

“All hands-on deck,” he shrugged and made his way over to the sheriff's body and the other officers.

Sam let out a frustrated groan, she knew the murder of the sheriff was top priority, but she couldn’t believe that cop left his position. Deputy Vincent had orders to protect Tara, he clearly wasn’t doing that, Sam highly doubted he could bring something new to the table that the other officers couldn’t. Sam’s eyes widened when she realized the cop who had been guarding her sister’s door was now standing across the lawn, nowhere near the hospital.

Sam didn’t hesitate to take off back towards her car. “Where are you going?” Dewey shouted after her.

“My sister is in danger!” Sam shouted back; she didn’t have time to waste. She told you to stay away from Tara, she herself left the hospital, now the one person ordered to protect Tara was also gone, there was literally no one standing between Tara and Ghostface coming after her.

Sam didn’t know shit about the movies, she didn’t know how any of this was actually supposed to work. What she did know though was that whoever was doing this was trying to hurt Sam for some reason and now that her sister was defenseless the easiest way to hurt Sam would be to go after Tara again. Ghostface let Tara live the first time, that was just to draw Sam back to town though, there was no way he’d let her live the second time.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked when she saw Dewey running after her.

“Figured you could use backup,” Dewey sighed, though he didn’t seem thrilled about most likely running straight into the line of fire.

“You don’t need to stay?” Sam flicked a glance across the way where Gale stood, talking to her camera man as she gestured behind her, talking about the crime scene.

“This isn’t where I’m needed,” is all Dewey said.

Sam didn’t waste anymore time before she jumped in the car, quickly starting it, she barely checked her mirrors as she whipped back out onto the road. She ignored the way Dewey groaned, his hands flailing to grasp the handle on the door as he was flung back against the seat.

With one hand Sam whipped out her phone, quickly tapping on Richie’s contact. “Hey,” Richie greeted after a few rings.

“Get to the hospital,” Sam said quickly.

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

“I think Tara’s in danger.”

There was a long pause, Sam wondered if she somehow had lost him. “You want me to go to the hospital where a psycho killer might be?” She could hear the hesitation in his voice.

“Richie, please,” Sam begged.

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

“We’ll meet you there.” Sam made an abrupt right turn, letting her phone fly out of her hand and into Dewey’s lap.

Dewey let out a groan and held out the phone to Sam. “Sorry,” she whispered. She quickly took the phone back, scrolling through the contacts until she found the one she wanted.

“Now, who are you calling?” Dewey asked.

“Y/N,” Sam answered instantly. Dewey furrowed his brow; he opened his mouth to say something else but before he could Sam heard the little click indicating someone had picked up. “Y/N,” she practically screamed into the phone.

“Too what do I owe the displeasure Samantha?” you asked, clearly still pissed at her.

Sam couldn’t blame you; she couldn’t even be bothered to care you called her Samantha, there were more important matters at hand. “Ghostface is going after Tara.”

“What?” You instantly got serious. “How do you know?” It sounded like you were shuffling around.

“Judy’s dead.” There was silence on the other end, Sam couldn’t even hear you moving around anymore. “Wes too.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“He’s going after Tara.” Sam let out a shaky breath, she knew how hypocritical she was, she told you to stay away from Tara because you were going to put her in danger and now, she was calling you, her only hope at protecting Tara. “Look I’m-”

“He’s not laying a fucking hand on her,” you cut her off. Sam couldn’t help but glance at her phone, your voice had gotten much darker, she really wouldn’t want to be Ghostface at the moment.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Whatever,” with that you hung up.

Sam blinked away a few tears, you were there, Tara would be fine. She didn’t miss the way Dewey was glancing at her. “I told her to stay away from Tara,” Sam whispered.

“And yet she was the one you called,” he said.

“I knew she’d ignore me,” Sam let out a humorless chuckle.

“She really loves her,” Dewey whispered more to himself.

Sam spared a quick glance at Dewey. He was slumped in the seat, staring out the windshield but at nothing in particular. Sam couldn’t imagine what he must be going through, his wife, ex-wife, love of his life, never told him they had a daughter together. Sam might not have known Dewey all too well, but she knew he was a good man. He and you were robbed of getting to be a family. He was robbed of getting to be a father and you were robbed of getting a loving father.

Sam nodded. “She’s very protective,” Sam said quietly. “She won’t let anyone, no matter who they are,” She smiled to herself, remembering how you got with her when it came to Tara, you didn’t care she was Tara’s older sister, your only priority was making sure Tara was okay, “hurt someone she loves.”

Sam caught the small, yet sad, smile on Dewey’s face. Sam whipped the wheel, making another sharp turn. Everything was going to be fine, you were with Tara, you would protect her, and she and Dewey were on the way, no one else was going to die today.

[vampyrial]

A World For Her Alone | Suffer Does The Wolf

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

cw (chapter specific): pregnancy loss, infidelity, abuse, suicide, childbirth, vomiting, dubcon, nothing good happens

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: Claude will never be able to save you but that doesn't mean he can stop trying.

He woke with a start, looking about the room as if the blood and carnage could follow him. But all he could see was his familiar dreary bedroom even though he could still feel the pain in his arm, even though he still felt disoriented from the carriage crash, even though he felt the phantom warmth of Diana in his arms. This life struck a stark contrast to the others. Before, Felix was the only one to ever kill him and for reasons clear as day. But who was this stranger in the woods? 

The assailants of the forest were not ordinary criminals. They didn’t seem at all interested in what money or jewelry he and Diana had. They did not search the carriage, their eyes never even met the brooch on his cravat or the ruby necklace around Diana’s neck. Who were they? No, more importantly – who was the swordsman with unbridled joy in his expression as he cut his head off? Could they have been comrades of Felix’s, seeking retribution? He could have sworn something about the swordsman felt familiar, only he couldn’t figure out why exactly. He told himself that he’d have to be careful, he’d have to watch for them but it was half hearted. What was the point of saving his own life? If he could do anything in this life, he wanted to find a way to save you from himself. 

So valiant it sounded to him but the reality of the matter never left him. He knew he likely wouldn’t be able to do either of those things anyway. There was no choice to begin with. His life was out of his hands. He’d been given over to darkness ages ago. There was nothing he could do to avoid becoming paralyzed in his own body. It had already been done. Sure as the sun would rise every morning, he would always be given over to a force greater than himself. This moment of control only existed as an illusion, it only existed so that he could be put back into his place.

He would never be able to save you. He would never be able to stop trying. He would watch you die again and again for so long that the lives would blur together and no longer be distinguishable. This, he was sure, was ordained by god. He had never been pious, he was always much too arrogant for it. Even now, he held to the last shred of it, the deluded belief in himself that helped him pretend there was a chance this time could end differently. 

And so he began again. The moment he saw Diana again, he was overcome with grief and intrusive love that needled its way deep into his mind. He was stifled. He could finally breathe. He was regretful, he wanted to pull her into his arms and beg her forgiveness for letting her die. He wished she’d died before this meeting. Her life was so fragile. It was precious. It was a burden.

It seemed there was nowhere he could take refuge from Diana. She’d started going to the academy, her health was better this time. She was so happy to get the chance that she nearly floated to her first class and Claude’s heart stalled to see her so vibrant. But when the classes let out for lunch she was walking alone, the roses were taken from her cheeks, she looked somber, nervous. He could not help what came over him again, he went to her. Her big, ruby eyes looked up at him in surprise, wiping away all the shyness in them. “Lord Claude?”

“Just Claude. No titles. We’re to be family and family has no need for formalities.” Family. How could he say such things with a straight face? Never mind the fact that it wasn’t true in and of itself, not of your family and certainly not of his.

A pittance of a smile rose to Diana’s face. “Claude,” She tested out calling him only by his name and an inevitable thrill stung his heart. She must have felt it too, for her he could see the affection clouding her gaze. 

“What’s wrong? You were looking troubled.”

“Well…” She hesitated and for some reason, this reminded him of you. It was like pulling teeth to get you to ever admit something was wrong and when you finally did, it was with your eyes to the floor in embarrassment. The reminder of you made his chest ache, it felt like the edge of Felix’s sword as it first broke his skin. But Diana spoke again and cut off all resemblance, obfuscated the pain of memory. “I underestimated how hard it is to go here, I don’t know anyone and I don’t have any classes with my sister. The work is hard, I don’t know if I’ll ever catch up.” Diana was not you. She never hesitated to make her feelings known. She had probably never been made to feel shameful of being human. A sudden and intense hate rose from within his truest self, though he didn’t know who it was meant for. Your parents who blatantly, egregiously favored Diana over you? Or Diana herself for…for simply being as she was? For making him feel this way?

Still, his love for her had fallen over him, smothered him. It seemed almost primordial, as if the love of her had always been and it was the Claude inside who was formed around it. It was more than inevitable, it was written into his very being. He was running desperately from something that was inside him all along. That would be until he was no more. This darkness lived before him, he was born to it. It wrapped itself around him and cradled him like a mother. It sung out in a honeyed voice, “there is nothing more for you than her.”

And so her pitiful troubles struck him deeply. “I’ll help you. If you’d like, we can sit together at lunch and go over your assignments.”

She brightened again and like a child who knew no modesty, she accepted without pretense at first. But then she remembered something Claude was certain both of them had wanted to ignore. “What about my sister? Will she mind?” She asked. He couldn’t keep himself from frowning at the mention of her. His greater self reviled the interruption in his break in reality. They usually had an unspoken agreement between them not to mention you but with eyes all around, it was impossible not to remember what they were. What other people must think when they see the two together.

“Of course not. She prefers to eat alone.” It wasn’t true, of course. You had always been pleased to spend time with him. In previous lives, he had simply avoided eating with you much of the time to the point where at lunch you did not even make a half hearted attempt. You knew what the answer was before the question left your lips and you simply left to eat alone, in some abandoned corner of the gardens. It was no matter. You could be left alone, you knew how to be alone. Diana needed someone. It couldn’t be you so it would be him. A sense of what was perhaps pride filled his chest. It felt righteous and gallant of him.

He swept her away to the dining hall, they walked so close their hands occasionally brushed against each other’s. People were looking at the two and he could hear them whisper when they walked by. He’d always hated being around other nobles, always simpering and gossiping. Although he knew that even before this all began, he had never been excellent at being human, he was certain that his fellow aristocrats were even worse at it than he was. Everything was up for grabs, fodder for the entertainment of others, everything from an alleged affair to murder. It was all very detached and uncharitable as if they were only speaking of nebulous people whose lives had long since become nothing more than stories. He felt the humiliation that exacerbated the dehumanization deep inside but what darkness surrounded him warmed at Diana’s company. It thought of nothing but her. He could be suddenly plunged into a circle of hell as payment for his many wasted lives and he’d only think to wonder if Diana had judged him as a good man; if wherever she was, she went to bed believing he’d go on to a sweeter afterlife.

His shoulder brushed against another student’s in the hall, a flash of black hair passed him by and sent a chill down his spine but he kept walking his fated path. He could not turn his head to see if he’d met his killer again but for what it was worth, he doubted finding him would have ever been so easy. As he entered the dining hall and scoped out a secluded table, it occurred to him to wonder how he would die this time around. Maybe this time, if she died before you did…

Diana opened her mouth and it became harder to hold onto that thought, it seemed to slip through his fingers. The more they spoke, the quieter his voice became. It was so eerie to speak lightly of schoolwork with a girl he’d seen murdered twice over. He’d seen her sullied by blood, dirt and terror. Now she was safe next to him and everything seemed unreal. There was the feeling of being pushed aside, out of his own body. He was losing himself, ebbing out of the wound in his chest with no way back inside.

He felt himself warm with the simple joy of having her near. He felt his expression lift from its usual seriousness. “I think you can catch up to your classmates but you’ll have to put in some effort.”

“Of course. Though, I really wouldn’t know where to start.” Diana’s brow furrowed, littered around the table were reading lists, syllabuses and assignments due the following week. 

“If you want…” He sacrificed the last of his dignity failing to stop himself from finishing that sentence. “I could help you with everything. I could study with you.”

A hope blossomed in Diana’s eyes that he had not seen since the tea party where they’d made a promise. “Really?” Her voice was so tentative, so sweet that it actually hurt him to think of denying her. 

“Yes. I can make time after classes end. We can start today, if you like.” On days where he was not meeting with you, he typically trained for several hours after getting home from the academy, spent a few more hours working on whatever tasks for the marquisate were delegated to him which left him with a slim space to simply relax. Doing this could only make that space smaller. He couldn’t remember a time since he was first able to hold a sword that he wasn’t tired, all of him ached for rest, he always had. He had been waiting to truly rest since he was ten. But what did any of that matter? He had always been dutiful and this was the one task which would bring him joy simply in and of itself. 

When lunch was over, Claude walked her out of the dining hall, his hand on the small of her back to gently navigate her through the swarm of students leaving. Diana clung to his arm, squeezing closer their bodies closer together to let someone by. However, neither of them let go even when they had passed the crowd. It couldn’t be helped, it couldn’t be helped. Was that what he’d say at the end of his life this time? It could not be helped, he loved her dearly and that was a force in and of itself that could not be denied.

It was Diana who had spotted you, returning from the garden. Her cheeks had turned bright red. She quickly separated herself from him, which Claude might have laughed at if his body were his own. So embarrassed to be caught touching her future brother-in-law and yet brazen enough to be doing it at the school she also attended of all places. Such a stupid girl she was, he had built a hatred of her where before there had been none. Before, he had not even considered her existence. He only ever met her out of formality but it would have been just as well if he never did. Because his love for her was so intense, it could only be met with the strongest hatred he could muster out of dregs of what he was. All of his grief turned to hatred for her and for himself. The love of her had made him sick, made him mad, brought him hell in his own home. Why wasn’t she dead? Why was she healthy? Why wasn’t she dying quietly in her bed? Why could she not have died before they ever got to meet at that stupid tea party?

“Your next class is this way too, right? Should we go together?” Diana asked, nervously. Your face became a mask at that. He scrutinized you, the detached disdain he had for you was waiting to fall onto him with one word from you. He’d not have any of the harassment you brought on other ladies directed toward Diana simply for having lunch with him.

But you smiled, a false smile that kept the darkness at bay. “Of course.” He wondered if Diana even knew how affected your voiced sounded in that moment, was she enough of a sister to you to know when you were putting yourself aside for her?

“I hope to see you again soon, Lady Diana,” He heard himself say, not even bothering to address you. He turned and left for his next class. “Good,” A voice from the dark. “No harm should come to her, not even by the hands of her elder sister.”

The days were short because he spent so much time with Diana. He didn’t know what it was about this life, but he could swear he spent more time with her in this one than he ever had before. It felt sick and rapturous, it was like the cloying, syrupy medicine the doctor had given him when he was injured in training once. He felt open, his very being had softened to the world itself because of Diana. He was rotting inside and his very being had begun to show his dread upon waking because of Diana. Even if he couldn’t express it outwardly, even the joy couldn’t obscure the steady drip of misery he sustained himself on. In a strange way, he was relieved for it. It reminded him that she had not always been in his heart. His love for you refused to be forgotten and as a result, the person he was never submitted to the greater self. This pain was visceral, he needed it like water.

He surprised himself when he took you on an outing to the botanical gardens. It was just obligatory, because Diana had thought to pull from him slightly so that he could tend to you like he should have been doing. It was a tentative offering, it was “I know that I betray my sister daily but do you not see me trying to resist?” It was pathetic. Even so, his greater self had not objected the thought of spending time with you, in this life you were far more tolerable. You spoke not a word of complaint against him when he spent hours with your sister at a time, behind his back you had even tried to cover them against rumor after rumor when before you would have made a scene. You could have moped in unearned despair and jealousy over Diana, you could have lashed out at her for eating lunch with him like you would have done before but instead you allowed Diana to have what she deserved in graceful apathy. You finally seemed to know how to behave.

He tried to enjoy the date as much as he could but it was too sweet to believe, your apathetic expression had even cracked a bit to reveal just a sliver of happiness. It was a tender moment he did not deserve. And he was painfully aware of that every moment, he had no tears but he might have cried at how unsure your happiness was. Happiness from something so small as him doing exactly as he should, taking you out to spend time at a place you enjoy. If he could have freed his body just in that moment, to apologize, to tell you how he really felt, it would have been worth dying right where he stood. He knew the moment would not last. He would live to hurt you again.

On your wedding day, the weather was appropriately miserable. Hope had deserted him, it had vanished in both sides of himself. The mirage of an oasis that had kept him company in the barren wilds had deserted him, leaving him somehow worse off, alone with the reality of his dire situation. When he first set eyes on you in white, you seemed almost unearthly. A beautiful apparition. He had seen you in your wedding dress so many times, he knew it was odd to look at you as though for the first time but he couldn’t help it. You, right then in the glow of candlelight looking holy, were the loveliest sight in all of his many lives. He could not hold back the thought that he would live to destroy this moment for the both of you. 

He heard himself say words rehearsed to the point of blind recitation. He hated the words, the greater self defied them by conjuring the image of Diana on the terrance after dark, bathed in moonlight. “I swear in the name of my good house, to love and honor you for as long as you shall live. Never will you be disgraced by any action or inaction of mine.” He doubted he could have said the words with any more sincerity if he had his own voice anyway. Perhaps it was just as well that it wasn’t him saying the words, he could never have managed to hold his composure as he looked into your eyes knowing that you could remember looking into his as he grasped your throat.

After the ceremony, when the guests were free to roam around drinking expensive wine and gossiping, he caught a glimpse of Diana over your shoulder and was yet again besotted as if the first time. He tried to focus his eyes on you but it was no use. She was positively shining in the scarce silver light that passed between clouds. Somehow the fact that she had managed to smile and radiate such warmth on such a day that must have been devastating to her made her all the more lovable. A pity unfurled in his heart that felt the same as his love. Oh, Diana. He had not even considered how hard this day would be for her, he was too self absorbed. She was made to watch the man she loved give his promise to another at a ceremony that symbolized the binding of their lives and fates together. She could not dwell in dreams of him anymore without being reminded, it would only be harder when children were born to them. Still, she shone brightly, exuberant in her love of both of you. 

He forgot himself. “So beautiful…” He murmured. Words that drew the vague horror inside him from its pathetic stillness back to its desperate lashing. He saw you react immediately, you had heard him.  He saw your face take on the sweetest look, as if so happy and surprised that your now husband should think of you as beautiful. He saw your face fall when you looked behind you and realized who the words were really for. “Stranger, if you must come for my life…” He thought, “Come now.”

Obligation to the crown soon took him away from home for a while. He couldn’t have left sooner. This time, all his letters were Diana. Not so much as a rushed, perfunctorily done letter for you. He could leave you to care for the marquisate, you could hold your own. He saw no reason to burden himself on top of everything else. But Diana sent her perfumed letter and he sent his replies. That much was different, it was what he needed to get through such tedious and draining work. They were all he thought of, all he wanted for. Diana wrote more frequently when he had mentioned in one of his replies that he read them over and over to fall asleep. His superior laughed when he called Claude’s name each time as he distributed letters among the knights, ribbing him about being newlywed. He thought the letters were from the new marchioness and how could he correct him?

Diana’s letters grew increasingly intimate, she expressed such a longing for him that he dreamed of sneaking away in the night even though such an act was treasonous. “Claude, I don’t know what there is to do without you. I thought it would be good not to see you for a while after the wedding, some time to cool off and accept things as they are. But I haven’t, I don’t think I can. I’ve been treating the love I have for you as though it’s a fever to break but no matter what I do, I cannot let go.” Those were the words that disintegrated whatever ease her letters had injected into his life away from home. He hated it, every moment spent here. He needed to see her again so much that he was sure it would show in everything he did. He was sure that you’d only have to look at him to know what he was struggling to hide. 

Throughout the next two years, his absence in the manor was even more pronounced than in lives past. Because when he returned from his duties, he went to Diana’s side. He would always remember the cloying scent of Diana���s room. Even when he bathed upon returning home, he swore he could still smell it lingering on his skin. Her touch could not be forgotten. 

He had not realized the depth of his desire for her until he set eyes on her again. Until he saw her in the flesh. A carnal and intrusive desire hung over his head precariously. She’d been in her nightgown this time, fresh from sleep, eyes soft and dreamy. It was morning, she was slowly getting ready and she’d not expected his visit but he could not help himself, it was a wonder he had even lasted the night. In the white of the morning sun shining through the cover of clouds, he could see the outline of her body plainly. His voice dried up in his throat. Desire, until then distinct, waiting to be claimed, finally reached over him and sealed his fate.

It is a strange thing for the body to yearn for things the mind opposes. When he reached for Diana, he felt a dread so strong that it became him. He understood what was meant to happen and he fought against his own body desperately, trying to assume control over it. But no amount of exertion ever made a difference, he was made to feel Diana’s body beneath his hands, her lips against his. No matter what he wanted, the greater force moved his body to its own desires. Even when inside, he was screaming at the scene unfolding before his eyes with his own body as its star.

His body was not his own but even so, he had to feel how it moved, what pleasure unfurled within him as his bare skin lay against Diana’s. It was a sick feeling of humiliation, of intrusion that juxtaposed the arousal which heated his body. His whims reduced to nothing in the face of her bare body. The inevitability of this act, it was a monumentally difficult thing for him to accept but what else could he do? Could he lay paralyzed and aware in his own body as he could only watch what was being done? No, the anguish of that would kill as surely as the sword that felled his head. Instead, he seemed to leave his body. Instead he let go of his body, he allowed it to take all it pleased as he visited elsewhere. He seemed to drift upwards toward the ceiling where he watched the act transpire more objectively. From that view, he could imagine it was not him who was driving himself into a moaning, gasping Diana, it was some other man. Yes, it must be, for Claude was not in that body, he was adrift.

When returned, he was holding her against his sweaty body beneath the sheets. Her scent clung to his skin. “I love you, Claude. I was never prepared to resist,” she said. She was trembling slightly as the heat of desire passed and left them only with the gravity of what they had done. “But we cannot allow this to happen again.” He held her closer against his chest and nodded numbly. He knew he would come to her again. This thing, it stole even dignity from him, even love.

Claude and Diana laid together again and again. And again and again. Despite their promises the first few times that it’d never happen again, that they couldn’t, shouldn’t, musn’t. It was always him who set aside these promises first, seducing her instead, he’d said on one occasion with his lips against her neck, “I don’t love her, I can’t. You are the first and last woman I will ever love. The moment you and I first met, we both knew we weren’t just going to be in-laws. Haven’t we done enough pretending?” Her will melted under her desire. His was buried under another’s. 

Then came the day Diana revealed herself to be pregnant. He thought himself to be dead inside but the moment those uncertain words left her lips, he found that he still had hope enough to destroy. He was in agony. A child between he and Diana when he knew you had never even gotten to name your own? It was a pain that had followed you into your previous life, searching for a child you’d never hold again. How could he be fit to have a child like this when he had abandoned the one born of his failure? Now, it seemed, he had a child of his shame too. Would he love this child of Diana where he’d been unable to love yours? It was unfair, he knew and he could do nothing, nothing at all to erase it.

He knew that in his misfortune, this child would be born. He would hear himself reveal it to you and watch you crack apart as you lived between haunted memory of your daughter whose name remained elusive because of him and the child of Diana who would surely be loved. As its mother was. 

Diana begged him not to reveal anything until later on, she was uncertain in her ability to carry a child to term and if she could not, what would the reveal be worth? Nothing but more pain to gather up around hers. He was bound to the secret until she was rather far along and sure that she would give birth. Even your parents knew before you did, they kept her secret and shielded her from rumors as much as they could. Their loyalties always belonged to Diana but this was egregious. They refused to even condemn their son-in-law for having an affair with his wife’s sister. Instead, they only shrewdly suggested that he take responsibility by annulling his marriage to you and take Diana as his wife since, of course, she was the one with his child. 

The greater force had not decided whether he would or would not, for even though he loved Diana, he had married you for a reason. You were the one capable of what the marquisate required. His innermost self could only recoil, seeking escape from the whole situation even as he lived in it. Desperately seeking to dissociate from the pain he would live to cause. He hid deep within worthless flesh inside the cold corner of his mind which belonged to him in the same way a cell belonged to the prisoner who lived and died in it.

But it did not save him. 

When Diana was almost eight months along, he brought her to the manor. She would have it done no sooner. She was ill from the strain of carrying their child in her womb and ill from the stress of the secret, of the inevitable fallout. Her bump was quite small even now, her condition could be made slightly more obscure with the right cut of dress and a coat. Her skin was pale and her hand trembled in his as they reached the salon where you were having tea. He let go of her when you looked up at them and approached you warily, slowly. 

“It isn’t Diana’s fault.” The nonsensical words came out of his lips instantly, above reason, he needed to protect Diana as he always had. 

You, with your flat, lifeless eyes seemed to stiffen with anticipation of his next words. “Is there something wrong?” You asked. Oh, his heart broke to hear the concern in your voice, the eagerness to help him.

“Diana is pregnant.” He would rather have died right there than witness what those words would do to you but there was no other will than that of his greater self. 

A teapot fell from your hands onto the floor, making a loud clang which Diana flinched at. “Who’s the father?”

With bile in his throat he answered. “I am.”

These words seem to break you, it cracked open the mask you hid your contempt and grief behind. It revealed a frail woman whose eyes shone with unshed tears and whose lips trembled as she tried to speak. You lost what little held you together. All you could ask was “Why?”

He wanted to answer with. “Because I was devoured by this thing which impersonates me.” But instead he said “Because I love her,” shameless as an arrogant little prince. The thoughts flooded in, he was taking control over his own life, he was proud of himself for standing up for what he wanted. It was ridiculous, almost to the point of hilarity. Who was he standing up to? A fragile woman who looked as though she were at the verge of losing her mind? His wife who asked so little of him?

Your eyes glazed over and there was no doubt in his mind that you were remembering your daughter. You screamed and he thought of your daughter, unwilling to be soothed after losing her mother. You fell onto the ground, eyes on the floor as if it could open up and reveal to you what had already been lost. 

“I’m sorry, big sister.” Diana mumbled and he felt sick to his stomach as his attention turned to her, leading her to the couch to sit. Covering her ears as if this wasn’t her sorrow to witness, she should have had to hear her sister’s screams. She should have to bear witness to what she had done to her own flesh and blood. He had covered her ears as if the noise were only an inconvenience to Diana rather than the cacophonous song of her doing.

Your nails dug into your skin so hard there was blood gathering beneath them. Your screams came like waves, faltering here and there between whimpers and sobs but returning. “Stay here, I’ll take her upstairs,” He said to Diana, calmly, dissonant as if this had nothing to do with either of them. As if he shouldn’t be on the floor begging her forgiveness, telling her that he’d met their daughter and he could never acknowledge another child. The child in Diana’s womb would be born to the darkness that moved him.

He brought you to your bedroom, his uncaring touch stilling you, anchoring you to the dreadful reality he had created. He left you there in your room even as your screams reached out to him through the door, to tend the mother of his child in this life. Diana had her face in her hands when he returned, he sat down next to her and put his arm around her, bringing her softly weeping face to his chest. He stayed there until she calmed. They slept in his room together, she wouldn’t suffer being alone in such a situation. His hands warming her skin, his sweet words of false assurance in her ear allowed her to fall sleep. He stayed awake, watching her with all of a husband’s concern for his wife. Everything Diana had belonged to you, was misappropriated for the wrong woman. Did she know that? If she did, would she care? Not the kind of care that would make her shed a few tears and words of regret, the kind that would eat her alive as it had done him. He doubted it. 

She clung to him in sleep as if she would fall apart without her comfort, while having left another woman broken.

Come morning, Diana wanted to take a tray of breakfast from the kitchen up to your room. She already navigated the manor as if she were its mistress. Perhaps subconsciously, she felt she would be. Maybe she even thought that was the way things had to be. Was she already justifying it to herself? She walked with her hand protectively on her belly as if wanting to shield her child from her own wrongdoing. He wanted to tell her it was too late for that.

When the two reached your door, Diana knocked. “Sister?” She called, hesitantly. “Are you awake?’ When no answer came, she simply opened the door and called out your name. The stench of vomit hit them and before he could tell her not to, Diana rushed in. He followed behind her as she raced to your bedside and he was overcome with unspeakable grief. The sheets were covered in vomit which had run down the side of your bed onto the floor. A bottle of sleeping tonic lay in the middle of the mess, your hand still slightly cupped as if you’d been holding it and your lips stained the same hue as its contents. You lay motionless on the bed. Diana gasped and took hold of your shoulders, shaking you, trying to call the life back into you. 

The grief turned to hate, turned to rage and he wanted to throw Diana aside so that she’d stop touching you. Stop handling you so harshly as if she had any right. Hadn’t she done enough? What made her think she was going to save you? In the piercing moment of loss, he wanted nothing more than to follow you. He didn’t think he could hold to reality any longer, but he knew would. He had no other choice. What misfortune to not even be able to go mad in the face of something like this, to always be aware of the enormous pain belonging to both of you. What misfortune to never be in control, remaining unable to even apologize. He held her shoulders and gently pulled her away as she went into shock.

Diana had begun to hyperventilate as he held onto her, she clutched at her stomach and cried out as if pained. “Diana?” he called to her, panicked. She did not respond, she stared at your dead body as if it were the only thing in the room. With the sight of you, chased into the grave by her actions, she was gripped by anguish strong enough to render her inconsolable. The fear, the guilt, the horror of this knowledge and the stress that it put on her, spurred her into labor too soon. She cried out, doubling over as the pain returned. He called out to the servants in the hall, preparing for the day. “We need help in here!”

The servants ran to swarm around Diana, gently leading her into another room. “Please, my lady, you must calm yourself!” a maid cried as they went down the hall. No one bothered seeing if there was anything that could be done for you. No one seemed to take a second look at your body. They were busy tending Diana. She was the one with his precious child, after all and you were the one with nothing. Even if they could bring the life back into you, what would they be saving? What use would you be? Claude took one last look at you before he followed after her. Even in death, you’d been neglected and even now he would abandon you. 

The labor ended quickly, that was the most merciful thing that could be said about it. Diana gave birth to a small, stillborn boy. He’d been at her side the whole time, clutching her hand. The boy was small enough to be held in one of his hands. Diana was inconsolable, sobbing and screaming out her pain at the loss of their son. After he was taken away from the room, she shrugged off Claude’s touch, it only seemed to further upset her. She begged for him to leave the room, still in tears. And he could do nothing else. His heart was hollow.

Diana entered a sort of catatonic state. Barely eating or drinking and avoiding his presence. His greater mind was inundated with grief but what did he feel inside, at his core? How was he to know? One pain rolled into the other, one grief was much like another. You had gone to your grave with the knowledge that he’d given another woman a child where you had lost yours. Now this child had been lost and both he and Diana stained in your blood with no child in their arms that might’ve allowed them to pretend it had been worth it. To what end? What kind of fate was this?

He understood what Diana must have been feeling, he had no choice but to. He was meant to be her other half, pulled on a string by some nebulous force’s yearnings for her. Her sister killed herself because the man she so dearly, so dutifully loved had an affair with her sister and there was a child between them, that much was tragedy enough. But even that could be accepted, that much guilt swallowed in the face of a very precious, much wanted child. It wouldn’t be right to say that the life she’d bring forth would be worth the death she caused but it would be something to hold to. When she looked at the child in her arms, she could put aside her guilt and regrets. She would have to put her shame aside, swapping it for the love of a mother. She could fool herself into believing it was a strange sort of fate, her greatest happiness whose birth she would never take back had to come from her greatest sadness. Through the love of her child, she could find a way to let go of the regret. Something new and good would come forth to occupy her time, her love. But her child had died and she was alone with the guilt. Her sister died because of her and nothing had come from it but grief. 

He understood too that Diana must have seen their son in his face and if it were up to him, he’d have gladly stayed away from her. He had enough grief to last lifetimes, what place did he have trying to ease hers when he had not even figured out how to do it for himself? Even so, the thoughts that ran concurrent to his own, stronger and louder, wanted nothing more than to comfort her. It wounded him that she was in no state to accept his comfort and he wanted to keep trying. He needed her comfort and he desperately needed to take care of her. He felt powerless when he couldn’t. He might’ve smiled at that, if only he could. Foolish. How foolish a man his greater self was.

It was weeks later when Diana finally let him in. A maid had come to his door on some unworthy night saying that the lady wished to see him. He came to her immediately, easily mollified by the simple act of her wanting him again. Out of the darkness came forth thoughts that they could still marry, could still have a child together even if it would never fill the void their son had left. We could still be happy, sung the darkness.

When he came to her bedside, she looked as she had in other lives when her health had failed but she smiled at him. “I’ve been thinking of our son.” Her voice was faint and fond, though it wavered slightly. “What if…he died as retribution for what we did?” Claude started to object. Even his lesser self was certain that this was probably the only tragedy he’d experienced thus far that wasn’t given as punishment. But she held up a hand. “Please, please just let me finish. He and my sister both were made to die because of we did. When I was still….with child, I thought everything would be alright, so long as I had you. I thought nothing could touch us. The hard part was over, my child was determined to live despite my weak constitution and I had nearly eight anxious months behind me to prove it. I thought my sister would come around somehow…I thought…I don’t know. I just didn’t think she’d ever react that way. Even if she wouldn’t forgive me.” Tears rolled down her wan cheeks.

“We never thought of anything but each other, did we? We didn’t even think of what we would be bringing a child into.” Her smile now resembled a grimace, she didn’t look at him. “I felt guilty for everything but I believed we couldn’t help it, we were so in love that we had to be together. I always softened it like that, you know? I sweetened it by likening us to my favorite romance novels, I believed that fate was on our side. I believed in the kind of love that was stronger than anything and I never thought I’d know a greater pain than not having you.” Her hands anxiously fidgeted with the threads on the sheets. “I…I think it’s time for me to return home,” she mumbled.

He murmured his discontent in soft words meant to coax her back even as his heart, the false one, was breaking. But Diana shook her head. “I’ll leave in the morning, I just— I need time.” She sounded slightly apologetic but it was clear she would not be argued with. He knew that she’d never return. How could she? There was too much blood between them now. This was their swan song. It struck him like a blow to the chest but it only made the contrast between his two selves that much more apparent. In that cold corner he reserved for the person he used to be, sometime, some place, ages ago, worlds away— he breathed a sigh of relief. 

In the morning, Diana left and the darkness unwound. It retreated into the air, returning his body to him too late. When he realized this, the first thing he did was cry for you. He hadn’t been able to before, he could do nothing but mourn the shambles of his relationship with Diana. Everything was Diana and the child they’d lost. He had been forced to stew in grief but in all reality, he felt relieved in some small measure. It was a sick thought that shamed him like everything else but it was there, hiding beneath misery. He was relieved never to have to give that a child a name knowing he’d never done for yours. To give that child a love that he hadn’t been able to spare for yours. 

But at the end of everything, you were dead. Gone to your grave thinking that he had done everything he’d never do for your child. Why couldn’t he ever save you? Or if not save you, then spare you this agony somehow, send you to death eternal. Why were the two of you forever trapped in this repetition? He cried for your memory, your lonely grave next to the unnamed baby boy who’d been born to the darkness that killed you again and again. He came undone, succumbed to the helplessness and dejection of his station finally. He mired in that grief. He refused to undercut it with drink or with self platitudes. He did not even stir up rage to combat the relentlessness of his own mourning. There was nothing more for him than the blood that trailed behind each and every life of his.

Eventually, when he’d grown numb, he made the decision to die again. That seemed to be an unspoken promise, the only one he could keep— that he’d always follow you into each life and each death. He drank too much sleeping tonic as you had and fell to an ungentle journey toward death. He retched and writhed in his sheets from the sharp pains. He struggled to breathe, to even move with the heaviness of his limbs. It was a wonder he had been able to turn on his side and avoid choking on his vomit. Only when he was spewing bile did his eyelids begin to droop and his consciousness fade. His addled mind conjured the image of your body lying next to him, already long gone. He reached his fingers toward the mirage, and curled them around the hand of your specter.

tags: @kage-tobiuo@kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee@cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl@s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire

[girl4music]

KATHERINE FUGATE: “I came to Rob and R.J. with a very specific belief on their series. Their series touched me deeply because it was about a woman’s search for redemption based on something in her life that she felt was a bad choice or wrong. So she was righting a wrong for herself and that period is commonly referred to as the Evil Xena period. And I came to Rob and R.J. in a room and looked at them and said ‘what I’d like to do is have Xena realize that all of that was necessary. As opposed to hating that part of herself to look at life as a balance of all things.’

What I think so many people do is sit in judgement about the choices they’ve made instead of realizing they all led them somewhere. And the Warrior Princess that Xena became would have never come about had there not been the Evil Xena period in her life. And for her to see both of them I proposed an alternate timeline in which she never became the Evil Xena and chose a different path which then never led her to the Warrior Princess - which it didn’t. And as I started thinking about that I thought wouldn’t it be interesting to do each character that way. A twist on all of their fate and choices in life. And if I remember correctly Gabrielle had always wanted to be a playwright and dreamt of going to Greece and being a famous playwright. So I thought ‘well, we’ll give her that dream, give Xena the dream she had in ‘Destiny’ when she wanted to be an Empress and rule with Caesar. Give her that dream. But let’s see what they’re missing at the end of the day.’ So I made them both successful in what they thought they wanted career-wise and goal-wise only to find out they didn’t have each other and that was the greater thing that was meant to be. So by that lesson I was hoping Xena and everyone would apply to their lives sort of a kindness to themselves for realizing every step they made had a reason. And that’s kind of how I pitched it.

Paying attention to and accepting all of the bad things that you, or actually the things that you call bad, and realizing they got you where you needed to be and ultimately, for Xena, where she needed to be was a person who recognized Gabrielle. And that’s how being the Warrior Princess got her to recognize Gabrielle when she saw her.

When we went in there we realized that now you have a specific timeline if you take off from ‘Destiny’. And I also started thinking like who is most interested in power in this show other than Caesar? He was always about power and Xena of course in certain incarnations and Alti was the other person who actually sought power in every form. And that’s how we got Alti. And I also realized Alti was a better conduit between the two worlds. She was our mystic and our sharmaness in the series and she’s the only person who - through some sort of mystical power could get you to see both images and both lifetimes. So that’s how we used her.

I think the thing about Alti that was interesting to me was everyone’s lives were linked in this show. Caesar was going to crucify Xena in any lifetime, Xena was going to meet Gabrielle in any lifetime and Alti was going to die because of Xena in any lifetime. This was a big surprise to her. She thought she’d finally won and she conquered her own destiny so to speak, just like Caesar thought he conquered his destiny by killing Brutus, who had killed him in the regular life - in the real life I guess we could say - and yet that didn’t work because his destiny was to die by an unexpected hand. It was the irony of Caesar - Julius Caesar’s - life. So here comes Alti, the trusted person he didn’t suspect, just like Brutus was. Well, with Alti, she was going to die by Xena’s hand. This time she crucifies Xena and looks at her and thinks she finally won only to realize in the last second of her life that Gabrielle and Xena’s love still was her demise, just like was always meant to be.

I absolutely think Xena had an effect on the way shows were later portrayed with women. Especially women action heroes. They’re just all over the place now. Even Tomb Raider, you know came afterwards. Alias came afterwards. Charmed I think even came afterwards. I don’t want to misquote something. But certainly it’s much more common now and accepted now and women are kicking ass all over the place. Xena - I think later,… it will be one of those retrospect shows where people realize how groundbreaking it was because I don’t know that they quite get it yet.”

This show is ultimately about the strong and substantial themes of redemption, forgiveness, vengeance, love, balance and justice and it’s great when the writers for the episodes see that and do what they can to add to those themes ‘cause those episodes are honestly the best. They’re the ones that really work and hit hard because they’re profound in the ways in which they teach you so many lessons.

And to choose to wrap these reiterated themes around female characters and have female-driven narratives in which to tell incredibly in-depth and compelling stories all about these themes is just 👌

Katherine Fugate should have had more episodes.

What a mind this woman has. Wowzas. 👏👏👏

So good. And she’s right. People still don’t quite get it. While it’s a cult show - I feel a lot of the reasons as to why it should be more appreciated aren’t understood. This is a 20-something year old show and it’s still relevant to watch today. It’s a timeless show in this way because a lot of shows are still catching up to it. How it portrays women in leading or authoritative roles. Queer women at that. It really is very special.

Look I know I’m biased because my niche is always going to be women-led and WLW supernatural/fantasy. But I still have yet to come across anything that surpasses Xena in its educational storytelling period. Nevermind including women-led and WLW. Like there’s nothing that matches up to the substance I get out of this show - its Universe and its characters.

Imagine being taught something as profound as this through a TV show about badass female fighters.

About appreciating the balance of all things in life through two female characters deeply in love and righting wrongs by fighting the greater good fight.

But it’s not just the women-led and WLW representation that is what makes this show so groundbreaking and profound and a delight to watch.

It’s just absolutely insane to me that this show exists even today. I’m constantly in awe of its substance and I could cry a damn river for this generation of TV art/entertainment because they’ll never come close to it.

It’s the writing in general. It’s REALLY fucking GOOD. I could listen to these interviews by the writers all day. Their passion and conscientiousness just floors me.

Like where is any of this in the TV industry today?

Nowhere! And it’s because of how much the landscape of TV show making has changed. And it hasn’t changed in a good way. Not in my opinion. It’s almost a chore to slog through the shortest shows now because of how absolutely lifeless they are. How completely devoid of substance. Depth of meaning. Perhaps it’s largely because Xena let you create the meaning for yourself through personal interpretation. But nevertheless even the cannon and explicit stuff was just better in every way than what we have now.

TV art/entertainment really has took a huge dive bomb since Xena, Buffy and Charmed were airing.

As I said - It’s not just the representation. It’s the storytelling within that representation and vice versa. It’s all the exceptional writing for that representation.

I don’t know if that makes any sense.

I’ll stop rambling. I know what I mean.

[writtenbydarling]

The first Taste

“ITS NOT THAT EASY!” I yelled at her, full of fear she took a step back, got away from me. I released her arm from my grip to let her get some distance between us. It was the first time i raised my voice at her. Even though she was used to me being blunt, she never had a reason to actually be afraid of me.

Until now.

“Listen princess and listen well. I won’t explain this twice.” I sat down on the floor with my legs crisscrossed, my hands in my lap, palms ups. She sat down on the sofa at the other end of the room, carefully, like she’d expected me to yell again. “I’m not like you, I am a monster bound into flesh, but i can rip that very flesh just so easy. When you walk around in my clothing you are marking yourself as mine, you’re rubbing my scent all over your body. And if that wasn’t hard enough you’re purposely showing off your neck when I’m around.”

She sharply breathed in to protest but i cut her off right away. “Don’t talk. Listen. Your life may depend on it one day.” She got one of the pillows and shielded herself like it would help if I’d decided to come for her. “You don’t look into my eyes for very long and when i get close you back away. When you’re angry at me you show me your teeth but as soon as i touch you, you’re a wet mess. Those behaviors have one thing in common, an invitation. Either you sign me to take you or to hunt you. I am strong but even i need breaks.”

„And living with you, having your scent in my nose all the fucking time and not being allowed to taste you is killing me. You have no idea how often i stood at your bed and almost woke you up by either fucking you or killing you. But on the other side…” i tilted my head, leaned forward onto my knees, slowly coming nearer. She could have stopped me at any given moment but she sat there in silence, starring at me. “… there is something that i really need to figure out soon or i will go crazy.”

I pushed myself between her knees, pulling her towards me, her ass almost over the edge of her seat. She still just starred at me, but now she held onto my hair as i placed her left leg on my shoulder.

Slowly leaving kisses on her soft skin, working my way up from her knee to her thigh and carefully slipping a finger under the oversized sweater she was wearing. When i found her underwear i started kissing the other leg, spreading them more and more while pulling her onto my shoulders further, so i could finally reach the place i wanted to bury my self in from the first second i laid eyes on her.

I heard her breath quickening and her heartbeat fastening, with my arms around her thighs i pulled her sweater up and the lace of her underwear to the side. She moaned a little when she felt my tongue for the first time, but she got progressively louder the longer i had my way with her. Her grip in my hair got tighter, almost painful.

But knowing that would be the first time she received without having to give anything, i kept on moving until her legs around my head started to tremble and shake and she tried to push me away. My tongue still inside her i crawled up on the sofa and turned her to the side so she could lay back down.

Then I added a finger. Her moans turned into some random babbling, something about how she should get me fired for this inappropriate behavior. But as soon as i closed my free hand around her throat she went back to those sweet little noises i heard almost every night when she masturbated herself to sleep. Still i needed more than her keeping her pleasure to herself, so a added another finger and i curled them upwards, slowly pumping them in and out while searching for that specific sweet-spot that would make her scream my name until the everyone knew it too.

When her head fell back against the pillows i knew i found it.

While my tongue flicked over her clit without mercy my fingertips massaged her at the same rhythm. From there on it only took me a few seconds for her to start whining about that i needed to stop with that and how much she hated me. I looked up to her and with my fingers around her chin i forced her to look into my eyes. “Thats alright with me, tell me how much you hate me.” I dared her to continue.

My words were only quite whispers against her wet skin while I looked at her, I knew what she saw right now, silver eyes that she could hide nothing from. Sharp teeth scratching over her skin, leaving little red marks that would be disappeared by tomorrow. Without breaking eye contact i started to suck marks next to those scratches, just to make sure she would not forget this so easily. “Scream it out loud, my sweet sweet morsel. Make me believe it…” then i went back to eating her out for my very own pleasure. She gasped, with my hand still around her jaw, she couldn’t even stop watching what i did to her and i clearly saw that she enjoyed every damn second of it. I took her apart piece by piece until she started begging me to stop, only then i pushed her over the edge.

“Cum for me like a good girl…” i growled, my teeth scraped over her skin as i sucked the little sensitive bud into my mouth. Aimlessly she tried to hold onto something, her hands found my hair again and then she let out the sweetest curses I’ve ever heard. He legs around my head were shaking but i let her ride out her high on my tongue.

When her grip loosened I slowed down and eventually stopped, got up, threw her over my shoulder and carried her upstairs into her bed. “Let me down!!” She demanded but i just smacked her ass. “You can’t walk princess, your legs are still shaking.” She screamed in frustration, her little fists crashing onto my back without any strength, she was completely done. “I will sleep on the stairs just let me down! Thats a order!!” I started laughing. “You will obey me!!!” I sure wouldn’t.

We arrived at her bed, i dropped her onto the mattress and got on top of her. “Fight me.” Her hand almost made contact with my cheek as i caught it. My thumb pressed painfully hard into her palm and her fingers closed around it. “Let me go you monster! I will kill you!” I angled my hips forward and her complaints turned into another moan. She was over sensitive right now. “Are you sure you want to threaten a monster?” I barred my teeth at her, a snarl deep inside my throat, knowing she could feel it. Her eyes closed for a second or two.

“Yeah, thats what i thought. I could do whatever to you and you know it. A brainless little princess that will be my brainless little fucktoy whenever i want her to be.” I brought her wrist to my lips and gently bit her without breaking the skin. Her hips rocked up against mine. “So responsive…” i added more pressure.

She let out the cutest moan while turning her head to the side. Her hair fell over her face but i could still see her biting her bottom lip. “Let's see what happens when i do this…” I heard her letting out a small “fuck” followed by some more involuntary hip movement as I intentionally drew blood. The crimson crushed into my mouth and lit up a firework in my body. The salty iron taste flooded my senses and i knew that this woman would be the death of me. I sucked on the small incisions and applied pressure with my thumb, my lips leaving a bloody trail down the inside of her arm as i made my way to her neck only to bite her again. My nose told me she got wetter every second and i took advantage of that by pressing her legs together with mine. She squirmed underneath me as i grabbed her other wrist and pinned both if them down above her head.

“Beg.” I simply said. “Please do it again?” I shook my head and firmly grabbed her throat. “I said ‘beg’ not ‘ask’.” Breathless she tried again. “Please do it again.” I gently smiled at her. “You can do better little morsel.” I increased the pressure and she gasped for air, not getting any. “Please fuck me again, please make me cum again! Please please please!!” she cried out with her last breath. “Thats a good girl.” I spread my legs a bit and hers followed to make place for my hand. 

[dykesynthezoid]

Writing wlw/mlm hostility Nami and Zoro + implied zosan and loving my life. Frankly.

Sneak peak:

_

Bereft of ideas and overwhelmed with frustration, Nami found herself with the steadying firmness of the aft deck under her back. She’d retreated to the piece right at the stern where hardly anyone ever went unless it was for something incredibly specific. Unfortunately, hardly anyone didn’t include Zoro.

“What’re you doing, witch?” he asked, suddenly coming into view above her. He looked annoyingly sweaty and a little constipated, as usual. Nami knew he often liked to train back here, despite the fact he now had an entire room he could use just for that up in the crow’s nest.

“What does it look like?” she asked primly.

“Um. Looks like you’re lying on the deck with your arms crossed over your chest and glaring up at the sky like it owes you money. So, I don’t know. Sulking?”

“Hah,” Nami scoffed. “Our resident broodingest swordsman accuses me of sulking. That’s rich.”

Zoro blinked dully at her.

“You have a whole training room in the crow’s nest, you know,” she added after a moment. “Up a long ladder, on top of the foremast? Do you need directions? You’ve never been good with those.”

“Uh huh.” Zoro scratched his chin lightly, looking out at the midday sun. “C’mon. I’m busy. What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, he’s busy,” Nami grumbled to herself, only partly for his benefit.

Zoro kicked her lightly in the side with his dirty, salt-crusted boot.

“Hey!” Nami squawked, jerking away and batting aggressively at his shins with a fist. If he felt any of the impact, he didn’t show it. “What is wrong with you?” She resettled on the deck, brushing off the dirt and salt now on her shirt with a haughty sniff. “Sanji would kill you if he saw that.”

Above her, Zoro huffed, his arms crossed. “The shit-idiot is welcome to try.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nami said, waving him off. She shook her head where it still rested against the wooden planks, then was graced with a sudden thought. “You know, maybe if you fucked him already it would, like, fix him. It’s worth a shot.”

Zoro narrowed his eyes at her, tips of his ears going coral-red, but steeled himself enough to prevent any further signs of embarrassment. Luckily, Nami had long since learned to read between the lines of his glaring and pouting and sword-swinging.

“Think the sun’s gone to your head,” Zoro growled, but he was still moving to bend down fluidly onto his knees, joining her on the deck.

“I’m being serious,” Nami told him, raising her eyebrows. “Think of how many problems you could solve if you just nut up and suck a dick.”

Zoro looked almost pained at that, frowning as he sprawled out next to her on the wood.

“I know, I know,” Nami sighed, as if he’d answered her. She didn’t really need his input, anyway. “It’s the dick in question that’s the problem. Not that I want to think about it anymore than I have to, but I really do imagine it would do you both good. But you’re right, getting there might require actual communication, god forbid.”

Zoro was studying her quietly, peering at her through the shadows the late afternoon sun left on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said slowly, as stubborn as ever but sounding more like he was testing her out than outright denying anything.

Nami turned her head to look over at him, grain of the wood pressing into the back of her head. “Fine,” she said after a moment. “I suppose you could just wait until the next time you accidentally get a glimpse of his sock garters and almost brain yourself with a dumbbell because every ounce of that famed physical awareness has suddenly fled your body through your dick; that makes sense.”

Zoro only grunted in response, reaching out a hand to fiddle with the end of her long, thin belt that had flopped out onto the deck when she laid down. Nami allowed it, seeing as he was almost always easier to talk to when his hands were occupied.

“Is it about the cook? Whatever’s wrong with you, I mean?” he asked, apparently having grown wise to her deflections.

Nami sighed, tugging her lip reticently between her teeth even as she was forced to accept that the jig was up. “It’s Robin,” she said finally. “She thinks I should— Come out to him, I guess.”

[evita-shelby]

Dance with the Devil

Gif by @crackshipandcrap

Another tommy and eva ficlet where they met before black star day

Cw:implied past alcohol abuse

It is out of guilt that he accepts Polly’s suggestion, no, orders that he talk to the lovely Miss Smith at John’s wedding.

She is a beauty, wealthy beyond imagination and has that spark of magic that beckons him to her even before he even truly met her.

Grace was enough to distract him from her, but because Polly convinced Arthur to have her work tonight, she was not here to keep him from being drawn to the pretty witch like a moth to a flame.

“Do you drink?” he asks offering some of the bathtub gin made for the occasion.

“I have been trying not to.” She smiled with a hint of embarrassment.

There was a past there, one that didn’t fit the refined lady she gave off. Grace had that, something peeking behind the mask she wears.

“Can’t be that bad.” Tommy tries to see what it was she hides behind her all-knowing eyes.

“Trust me, it was bad.” The witch admits brushing a stray hair away from her face and yet takes the offered bottle and drinks like someone who’s been to war.

“’Cause I have been, Mr. Shelby.” She spoke as if she’d read his mind.

His mother used to do that, Polly too until they took Sally and Michael from her and her magic left with them too.

“Call me Tommy, then.” Perhaps it won’t be as bad as he’d thought. “Do you dance?”

The witch laughed, “I was wondering when you’d get the nerve to ask me, Tommy.”

He likes the sound of her laugh and the way she says his name, despite the strange American lilt to it that he found grating amongst soldiers and nurses he’d met.

“You don’t look like someone who likes to dance.” The witch comments after he reminds his friends and family about the Tommy that died in France.

“Appearances can be deceiving, Miss. Smith.” He remarks and hopes she can keep up.

“Call me, Eva.” She kicked off her fine shoes and gave him another reason to think this scheme of Polly’s wasn’t half bad.

Polly really knew what she was doing, she’d picked out Esme from the Lee girls, Martha before her, Greta and now Eva. She’d make a killing if she ever charged for her matchmaking.

He hasn’t danced like this in a while, he’d danced with Grace alone in her room, but that had been to woo her. This was done not to woo Eva, but to enjoy his brother’s wedding with a girl he might consider wooing later depending on how the night went.

“Won’t your barmaid mind?” she teases.

“She’s not mine.” He answered. Not yet anyways, or even not ever, jury is still out on that after all.

“I would be careful; she is a loyalist like the inspector who threw out all my lovely things into the street.” The dark-haired woman warns with a tone of disgust towards the subject. “Same paramilitary group and all.”

That was far too specific to be just a hunch.

“Did you figure that out with your second sight, Evie?” He asked, wondering what she knew of Grace.

“That and a specific set of skills she and I share, though I am obviously the superior one.” she smiled like the cat that ate the cream.

A spy. He was falling in love with a spy, a narc put in place by his own enemies.

“Don’t beat yourself up for it, for as great a head you have on your shoulders, the other one you have can make you ignore it when it comes to women.” She is witty, sharp like a pretty knife.

Polly’s influence, he thinks. Or she was already like this and that was why she got on so well with his aunt and sister.

“What else do you know?” he won’t be letting her go now. Not when she’s got his attention like this.

“They are plotting something tonight; I don’t know what it is but they will blame it on you. We can stop it if we act now.”

There was no real doubt that she spoke the truth, Tommy had let his cock and loneliness serve himself and his family on a platter to their enemies. Polly ,as always, was right.

“We?” the word and the surety she added herself into this mess is not lost on him.

“As you yourself just said, your prick served you on a platter to your enemies.” Eva answered. “Besides, don’t you want to see a professional in action?”

[1moreff-creator]

I'm curious, given how much you like and think about Min, which secret do you think fits Min best?

So, the short answer is “the poison one” like most people believe, but there is a bit more nuance to it, so I think I can use this as an excuse to talk about Min for a while! Yay! In this post, I’ll discuss not only why I think that’s her secret, but also when, why and how I believe she poisoned her competitors. Get ready for a lot of speculation.

Also, I believe you’ve mentioned in your Character Playlist post you think that secret is Hu’s, so I probably should go into detail anyways.

CW for the remaining secrets: suicide, self-harm, murder, and also a lot of talk of Min’s backstory, so toxic school culture.

So, a few of the remaining secrets we can completely rule out, because we can assign them to people without much controversy.

•The “survivor’s guilt” secret Min herself ‘received’ is clearly Xander’s, which is easy to gather from his Bonus Episode and his secret quote.

•That means David’s lying, but like most people, I believe he got Teruko’s secret. The whole “everything in your life is worth killing over” part is already pretty telling, but she’s also the only one who could get “the killing game is your fault” as a motive without being the mastermind, basically. After all, she can blame her luck: “This killing game is my fault because the reason this Hope’s Peak class was chosen in particular is because of my luck” is the quickest defense she would have, for instance.

•Although I unfortunately could see Min self-harming, I doubt she’d feel the need to do it “for fun”. I don’t think anyone believes that secret to be anyone’s but Veronika.

With most of the others already being confirmed, this leaves us with three secrets I feel there is still meaningful debate over. Those being “murderer without remorse”, “hopeless child” and “poisoned the competition”.

For Min specifically though, I feel like we can rule out “murderer without remorse”. Mainly because the other two just fit her better, as there is nothing connecting her backstory to this secret in particular. But also because… well, it’s Arei’s secret. It’s going to be quite weird if it doesn’t at least come up in the trial, let alone if something this dramatic belongs to someone who is… not available.

And that leaves us with two. “Hopeless child” and “poison the competition”.

Is there reason to believe she’s the one who attempted suicide three times? Well, her backstory is quite sad, it’s understandable how something like what she went through could lead someone to suicide, but it’s never been expressly implied.

But if anyone believes this is Min’s secret, I imagine it’d be because they believe the “poison” secret belongs to someone else. The possible candidates are Levi and Hu.

Now, Levi has only slightly less connection to the “poison” secret than Min does the “suicide” secret. That is to say, conceivable, but without much direct evidence. But Hu actually has a decently strong argument for the “poison” secret, I can see why someone would assign that one to her.

The main thing is her secret quote: “I want to pay for what I’ve done. But even then, I still want to live.” If that’s referring to something outside the killing game, it has to be the poison secret. She wouldn’t need to repent for suicide, and if she was a remorseless murderer, she wouldn’t want to pay for what she’s done. Of course, the issue is that it could be referring to something from the killing game (such as Min’s own quote, “I wanted to save you”).

But the LGI MV may actually provide support for the Hu!Poison theory, because of the assassin’s teapot. This is one of the objects shown in that one scene where everything around the room was labeled, next to the (not) a prop gun, the candle in the candle holder, and the bowl of fruit. There’s an interpretation that a lot of these objects represent the different characters of the killing game (gun for Xander, bowl of fruit for Rose, rope for Arei, clock for Eden, dresser for Levi, etc), and the one which best fits Hu at first glance is the teapot. The thing is, assassin’s teapots are commonly associated with poison, so the connection grows stronger.

(If you’re wondering, Min is probably the albino mouse and arabidopsis. Not only are they connected to her via the footnote which talks about the fruit fly Min name-checks in her voice actor reveal, but the albino mouse, arabidopsis, fruit fly and E. Coli are organisms used in experiments. And:

Min: [Talking about Hope’s Peak and the exam she took] But to conduct an experiment to see if someone would force themselves to become their idea of an Ultimate for the Academy’s sake and succeed.

Min sees her talent as nothing but an experiment. I’m so sad)

Tangent aside, Hu does have an argument for the poison secret. Except… the specifics are a bit strange.

You always treated the competition with ruthlessness, but poisoning them to win was a bit too far, wasn’t it?

Whoever had this secret, must be a highly competitive person. I’m… not sure that fits Hu, frankly. Nor Levi, who seems to be relatively new to his talent, or at least that’s the impression I got from his introduction. Neither of them are as competitive as Min, that’s for sure (more on that later).

Now, there is also the ���to win” aspect of the secret’s wording, which is worth talking about. There are such things as zither playing competitions (thanks Google), as well as general music instrument competitions which I imagine are more competitive, and it makes more sense to say Hu “won” one of those, rather than Min “won” her exam, right?

Well, two issues with that. One, Hu has never mentioned these competitions, ever (nor has Levi mentioned anything analogous). Two, while you can’t “win” an exam, you can win a “contest”. And the thing Min actually took part in was called “Ultimate Contest for Eminent Students” (UCES). Under that wording, it does make sense to say Min “won” it.

This is where we dive full force to the Bonus Episode… and where the idea of the “suicide” secret belonging to Min starts to fall apart.

Min: Failure was not something I even considered, because if I failed, then there would be no future for me or my family.

Min: I had simply accepted for my whole life that I would be the Ultimate Student, and I lived my life accordingly. That’s the Academy chose me.

See, the problem here is… well, to put it bluntly, dying would mean not winning the contest. Although her life sounds horrible, she speaks of it as if she had fully accepted it at one point, resigned herself to it, and she simply wouldn’t think of committing suicide because it would go against her goal of becoming the Ultimate Student. Keep in mind she was doing it for her family just as much as she was doing it for herself, if not more.

That said, suicide is inherently irrational, so it still isn’t ruled out. She does fits being a hopeless child, unfortunately, so the secret is still up in the air.

However, as the Bonus Episode progresses, it’s clear Min’s competitiveness is a much more important part of her character than it is for Hu’s or Levi’s. This had already been established as early as her introduction, where she claims she constantly has to hone her talent to maintain it, but the Bonus Episode drives the point home.

Min: Because of this contest, because I wanted to win, I had let my entire life revolve around that one test.

(Oh, hey! Confirmation on the “win” phrasing!)

This is by itself more competitiveness than Hu or Levi have ever expressed, and shows that Min really was ready to go extremely far for this contest. But it runs even deeper than that.

Min: High achievement, studying, taking exams, being the top of my class.

Min: I cut everything else out of my life for that one goal. And that is exactly what they wanted to see.

Being top of her class is one of the main things Min brings up as aspects of being the Ultimate Student, separate from getting good grades. In other words, competitiveness is intrinsic to her talent.

But would she really be willing to harm or even kill others for her own purposes?

Well, yeah, obviously. We saw it in the killing game. Even if you spin Xander’s death to be an accident, Min was very much ready to let everyone else die in that class trial to live and escape (good ending, tbh /j). Although we don’t know enough about Levi or Hu to be sure, we are certain Min would be someone to poison her competition to win that Contest.

Then, there’s the matter of who received these secrets. Veronika received the “suicide” secret, and is keeping it to herself to “keep things interesting”. Mind you, she’s unpredictable enough that I’m not sure she wouldn’t consider keeping a dead person’s secret to herself “interesting”, but she still seems too excited for it to just be Min’s. Or maybe that’s just me.

But the big thing is that Xander was the person who ‘received’ the “poison” secret. And considering Min ‘got’ Xander’s, I think it makes sense to assume both the chapter one deaths got each others. Even beyond the ‘character foil’ aspect those two have going on, this essentially lets them stay out of the narrative entirely, to let the alive people have the stage. It could also be read as ironic; the seemingly dangerous and aggressive ‘Ultimate Rebel’ has a secret where he did nothing wrong, while the seemingly calm and innocent ‘Ultimate Student’ has a murderous past.

(Speaking of past, while researching for this, I noticed the pinned comment on Min’s Bonus Episode is “someone who wants to move on from the past”, while the pinned comment in Xander’s is “someone who wants to hold on to the past”. The quote could apply to both secrets, so I just brought it up ‘cause I think it’s cool)

With all this in mind, plus the few lines which imply Hu has self-esteem issues and more depressive thoughts than she usually lets on (which I won’t get into because I’ve already talked about Hu too much in a Min post), I think it makes more sense for Min to have the “poison” secret, and for Hu to have the “suicide” secret… or the “murderer” secret, she’s honestly my fallback on who the accomplice may be if Levi isn’t it. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, don’t worry about it too much.

However, that wasn’t enough for me. So now I want to figure out what exactly Min did, to see if I find anything more conclusive on this poison incident. Because we have a motive, but we’re lacking a method. And… I think I have a more clear idea of what may have happened now.

Originally, I thought maybe Min had only non-lethally poisoned people in the place the contest was held, to distract them and make them fail. However, it’s stated that the Contest actually took place across the US, so that doesn’t entirely make sense. Instead, I want to focus on this line:

Min: I’m sure I did amazingly well, but it seems highly unlikely that I was number one in the nation in terms of raw scores.

Let’s think, what does this line imply? Well, it implies Min doesn’t believe she got a perfect score, so she must have made a few mistakes. And if you recall from that trial I get sad thinking about, Min has a… bad reaction, to the idea of mistakes.

Min: Right now, everyone suspects me, which is a mistake. But that’s alright. Mistakes are meant to be fixed.

Min: Like filling out a multiple-choice test. You bubble in answer after answer and sometimes get it wrong.

Min: If I let even one miscalculation slip by, then the life that I worked so hard for will come crashing down in an instant. So I’ll keep erasing those mistakes until they’re correct.

Min: As long as I learn from my mistakes… As long as I make the correct choice in the end… That’s how I’ll achieve success.

So, first, this reiterates Min’s fixation on the future she worked for her whole life, making it more unlikely in my eyes that she has the “suicide” secret. But the important thing, the one I highlighted, is that Min is obsessed with the idea of correcting mistakes.

But, how would she correct the mistakes in a test she already turned in? How does she correct the mistakes she made during the UCES now that the test is already being graded?

Well, the grading process would take some time… so she just needs to find a more “creative” way to address her mistakes. As long as she makes the right choice, she can achieve success.

Thus, we reach a point where the UCES has already happened, the results aren’t in, and Min is freaking the hell out because she knows she made some mistakes. She has to do something, because her entire life revolves around this. She has to win. The idea of any other outcome is utterly inconceivable. And in the (paraphrased) words of a wise man no longer with us, “there are two paths to succeess. One, self-improvement. Two, sabotaging literally the entire competition”

So, she finds a way to track down the other candidates or likely winners, and she poisons them in some way. Can’t win if you’re dead!

Although, admittedly, that is the hardest part to understand from all this. How would she go about tracking all those people all around the US and managing to poison them all? It’s be nearly impossible unless she did something large scale like poisoning entire water sources or some-

…

Heeeeeeey… The Chariton incident didn’t happen to coincide with the UCES, riiiight?…

…

Okay, no. Crisis averted. On further research, it’s stated in Bonus Episode #2 that incident happened when Xander was 14, while Min took the Contest when she was 17. Assuming they’re the same age (which is an assumption, but still), Min can’t be responsible for that. Good.

However, thinking about that did give me an idea of how Min could have gone about doing this.

Min: But one day, we were visited by the founder of that big company XF-Ture Tech. He told my parents that he would sponsor me and pay for all of our expenses.

Min: All he asked in return was that in 12 years, I would pass the Academy's test and became the Ultimate Student.

So, we know very little about whatever the hell XF-Ture Tech is, but we can assume it’s pretty powerful. Maybe owned by the Duke Spurling guy from Xander’s and Rose’s backstory. So, if they’re so interested in getting Min into Hope’s Peak, maybe they could arrange something for her to poison the other potential winners. Anything to get Min, someone who owes them essentially her entire purpose in life (from her perspective), into Hope’s Peak. They have invested 12 years into this, you know. What’s a bit of poison to guarantee success?

And there is one other line which implies XF-Ture Tech may have helped Min in her quest more than just by giving her family money.

Min: Maybe I'll become a teacher. I'm not the best at teaching, and I'll never be as good as him, but I want to try.

Yeah, did you forget about this line? Frankly, me too. But it does imply Min received private tutoring from a really good teacher; hell, maybe Duke Spurling himself, who knows. It’s clear XF-Ture Tech desperately wants influence in Hope’s Peak, and if this “him” is the one who’s to blame for Min’s “fix all mistakes” obsession, then I could see them facilitating something like this. Or even goading her into it, which helps me cope and say Min was manipulated and isn’t that evil trust me bro please-

A minor issue with this theory is that the secret’s wording implies Min poisoned her competition directly, which… doesn’t fully track? You’d think they would delegate something like this.

Unless… they had some reason for Min to administer the poison herself. As a way to show Hope’s Peak how committed she is to being the Ultimate Student.

Min: I was selected as the Ultimate Student not because of my academic performance, nor my intelligence, but because I had grown into their ideal of an Ultimate Student.

Min: In the end, what the Academy wanted wasn't to select the most intelligent student nor thr best test taker...

Min: But to conduct an experiment to see if someone would force themselves to become their idea of an Ultimate for the Academy's sake and succeed.

So, I know I’ve already speculated a lot based on very little evidence, but this definitely feels like the largest stretch I'm making. Essentially, I believe it’s possible Hope’s Peak knows about her poisoning the competition, but they just see it as further confirmation that she truly deserves the title of Ultimate Student. Competitiveness is a part of the talent, according to my interpretation about that line about being top of the class. And Hope’s Peak in this universe clearly is somewhat fucked up, considering what we’ve learnt from Xander’s Bonus Episode.

After all, think about it. Min says Hope’s Peak picked her for reasons outside of her test, but how do they know about the other stuff she’s done? It’s perfectly possible I’m reading too much into this, and XF-Ture Tech just has a trustable source which could recommend Min to the Hope’s Peak talent scouts or something. But that’s boring. It’s more fun to see this poisoning as the ultimate (hah) demonstration of Min’s devotion to the Academy and the ideals of Ultimates.

… Also, maybe that opens the door again to the poison being non-lethal? If she was just asked by Hope’s Peak to show her loyalty by eliminating competition, she could have maybe put them in comas, ones too long for the Academy to consider giving them the Ultimate Student title. Hey, if turpentine fumes can knock people out…

Actually, now that I’m thinking about it (this post wasn’t planned too well), that works even if Hope’s Peak doesn’t know about this. I did always find it weird the secret specifically mentions poisoning instead of straight up murdering, even when they’re supposed to be as unflattering as possible. So… she’s evil, but I can fix her (in a completely platonic fashion). Surely. Or make her worse. Whichever’s more fun.

(Watch her secret be the suicide one, btw. I don’t know if I’d laugh or cry)

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

So, hope that satisfies your question! And hopefully I didn’t bore you too much with my insane speculation! I honestly don’t know which theory is crazier, this one or “the Sleepy MV is actually about Min and Mai”. But I had fun, and that’s what matters.

Anyways, thanks for reading so far! You deserve an A+ for putting up with my insanity! Take care!

[mymreaderlibrary]

Male reader / Natasha Romanoff drabble

(Note: this focuses on stuff around pregnancy and infertility)

If you asked the average person if Natasha Romanoff wanted to be a mom you’d get a solid no. She’s a busy woman, one of the most revered assassins working for a group of world saving heroes, she doesn’t have time for kids. She’s got jobs to finish, people to kill, people to save, and having some bawling toddler would only ruin that.

Besides, Natasha never seemed all that interested in children. While some may become completely enamored by a newborn’s squishy face and joyful squeals, she always managed to simply smile and carry on. She wasn’t immune to giving them a good tickle, but most people aren’t and her motions always seemed drained. It was as if she was losing energy by just seeing a child.

So the consensus was pretty easy to come to, both her life and personal interests showed no signs of settling down. But if you asked those close to her, more specifically Clint, you’d get a far different response. Natasha adored being an aunt to Clint’s kids. Watching them grow and become tiny people with big personalities struck a warmth and desire within her. A desire she could never fulfill.

The Red Room took many things from her, but one that haunted her in particular was her hysterectomy. Originally she felt neither which way about it, but after joining SHIELD and meeting Clint’s family it struck her just how permanent the surgery really was. For a while a sense of bitterness would waft over her, anger, frustration, sadness not necessarily for the loss of her uterus but instead for the loss of her bodily autonomy. It was necessary she told herself it’s not like I had a choice. Still some odd part of her took the blame and the thought that she could never have a family to call her own hurt.

However life finds a way.

She met a man who came to adore her. Beyond just her face and body (though you couldn’t lie to yourself and say she wasn’t exceedingly physically attractive), beyond her job as an assassin, beyond her involvement with the Avengers, she found someone who just liked her. And well… as the months to years passed that feeling welled up inside her.

Natasha had brought you to meet Clint, or well Clint wanted to meet you and gauge what you were doing with his best friend. He’s well aware Natasha can take care of herself it’s just that with friendship comes a defensiveness and he wanted her to be happy. Luckily it seemed you passed whatever silent test he was running on you.

The three of you chatted away by the coffee table, drinking wine as the sun went down. You had an arm slung around Nat’s shoulders as she leaned lightly into your side. She’d never been much for PDA but it was clear she felt safe here. The sound of giggling interrupted your chat as Laura came home with Cooper and Lila. Clint stood up to go greet them and as you watched him go something else caught your eye.

Natasha was smiling but… it was a bit strained. She seemed excited to see the kids but it was clear something was hurting her while watching them. You gave her a little squeeze on the shoulder in hopes of grounding her but it seemed to make her just brush things off faster.

Eventually Clint came back and the two of you gave your goodbyes as the Barton’s prepared for dinner. While you and Nat walked back to the car you couldn’t help but ask her what was wrong. It took a moment, but she decided to trust you. You deserved the know.

Kids or no kids you knew you loved Natasha and you met her in a tight embrace. She just leaned quietly against your shoulder but she felt lighter.

-

Surrogacy was the first idea tossed around. While she might not be able to have a kid you were still capable.

(If AMAB) finding a surrogate mother seemed daunting but Pepper let you know that she was down to help you guys out. There would be no way for Natasha to donate an egg so the genes wouldn’t be hers but that wasn’t all too important. If you followed through with this Natasha would be overly grateful to Pepper and making sure to check in on her constantly.

Do you snacks? Want ice cream? Do your feet hurt? How’s the baby doing? Is everything okay?

Pepper ends up complaining more about Natasha taking up the role as HER mom than her own pregnancy symptoms. Still, no one can really blame Nat for her antsy-ness and Pepper far from hates getting attention, especially from a friend. With each passing day you both couldn’t help but get more and more excited to meet your baby. Though she didn’t say it out loud, Natasha was relieved to be allowed in the room during labor.

(If AFAB) it occurred to you while Natasha had no uterus, you did. However this wasn’t a decision that could be made lightly as the process would include stopping your T for almost a full year as well as the risk of complications. Nat didn’t want to put you through all of that especially if it would strike up dysphoria or distress.

if you decided to follow this route you two would just need to find a sperm donor. No offense to the men in her life but Natasha didn’t feel like asking them for DNA so instead you two chose anonymous. It was kinda bizarre watching and feeling the baby grow, but Nat was ready to mother hen you at every turn. She did her best to buy all the odd snacks you wanted, get you some baggy clothes which didn’t pinch your waist, and let you have rest, lots of rest. She had a habit of rubbing your bump and you watched the silent thrill in her eyes when the baby gave a kick to her hand.

The main downside was that the baby now took the place of Nat’s own spot during bed time. She loved holding you close and feeling your heart beat against hers but now there was a living road block in the way. She joked about having a rivalry with the baby for your attention, something she knew would be a bit more real once the baby was born. Still, she was happy and so were you.

(AMAB AND OR AFAB) if neither of the previous options worked there was always adoption. Neither of you were sure if you wanted a baby, a kid, or a teen so you decided to just see who were available and decide then. It felt a little odd wading through the papers and picking which child you would take in. It felt almost a lil disconnected from the reality of what you were doing.

So many different children seemed like a great match but one in particular caught Nat’s eye. A girl, no older than 7 with no known family members. She was a trouble maker, combative, rough around the edges, and struck a sense of nostalgia within Natasha. She couldn’t help but think of her own fake family back in Ohio as she looked at the girl. She was perfect.

It took a while for the girl to get used to your home and her rowdy nature didn’t just stop because she was adopted. However Nat expected as much, being torn from one home to the next was not an easy process. Eventually the girl slowly got accustomed in her own silent ways.

She may not call you mom and dad but her affection was a lot higher. She laughed more and made some friends at school. You and Nat got to watch as the world seemed to ease up on the girl’s shoulders. Looking at Nat’s tender smile made you think about how you wouldn’t have life any other way.

[hypnotisedfireflies]

hi. I’m obsessed with you 💓 you’re incredible. Just dropping in to remind you.

My birthday is on March 4th and I have a Drabble request/prompt/please ramble on about this idea in the lovely way you do with all them bullet points and angst that’s so romantic.

Tess as a Black Widow. Killer of men. Lures them in… murders them *during*.

Can you imagine?! The one guy she can’t bring herself to kill because they ✨see each other✨ AHHHHHHH

love u bye

You are so unhinged and ilu for this.

No seriously, ilu.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my dear friend! I hope you have a wonderful birthday and are spoiled rotten by your beautiful loved ones (and avoid bites, haha). 

I am not organized enough to write anything for this but I can freestyle some ideas so – birthday hats on everybody, streamers and cake:  let’s go with some Killer of Men Widowisms.  Um, proceed with caution I guess, but it’s probably pretty tame.

Okay so who is Tess in this scenario and why is she doing it?  A contract killer or out for her own kicks?  I like the sound of the latter to differentiate from anything else I’ve done.

So let’s go full serial killer with this one.  She’s organised, in control of her desires and travels for work, so she never chooses marks in her own backyard.  She aborts more kills than she follows through with because she’s so meticulous that her marks meet very specific criteria and things can’t be traced back to her.

She likes to drug them before they get started as  physical advantage but changes up the method of actual murder to try and eliminate falling into traceable patterns.

Sometimes she goes years between kills and as a result, when she picks Joel up in a bar she’s feeling particularly itchy.  This guy seems kind of nice.  She might ordinarily let this fish go, nice men don’t deserve messy ends.

But as their time together progresses she starts to get another vibe off him, and thinks maybe he’s not quite so nice as she thought.

So just as she’s about to unhook him she decides to go through with it, even though her instincts are undecided about what is actually going on.

They go back to her motel room, she drugs his drink but she’s still not sure, something’s off.  They get it on and he doesn’t really seem to respond to the effects of the drug she gave him, but she’s so intrigued by being unable to figure him out that she doesn’t pay it the attention she should. 

He’s rougher with her than she’d normally tolerate but she likes it – it’s exciting not really knowing if she’s in control or not, she’s always in control, and this uncertainty really thrills her.

They have ~amazing chemistry ofc

She doesn’t try to kill him when she normally would at point of climax.  She tells herself she’ll give it a few hours and maybe try again.

While Joel’s in the bathroom she examines his drink and the bottle of pills in her bag.  Counts them, she definitely gave it to him but … what’s that?  These pills aren’t hers.  These are not her drugs.

Joel opens the door and he’s like, “You think I didn’t see that comin’ a mile away?”

Tess:  “Did you go through my purse?  Those are my motion sickness pills,” blah blah lie lie.

And Joel tosses the pills on the bed.  “Those are cheatin’, sweetheart.  Where’s the fun if you don’t have to fight for it?”

Serial Killer Tess, meet Serial Killer Joel.

For his part, Joel was preying on her in turn and cottoned on when he caught her spiking his drink, which he then dealt with with some slick sleight of hand and swapped the rest of the pills while she was distracted on a phone call or something (idk)

Joel considered playing along and pretending to be drugged - he thought she was just going to rob him and liked the idea of turning the tables on her at some critical moment (surprise!serial killer, baby!)

But as it went on he realised she had no interest in robbing him, and he started recognising himself in her, and realised what was ACTUALLY her game

And yeah he liked that

Quite a lot

Very much actually thanks

So he let it all evolve but while she was courting the idea of killing him, as was he with her

So when he announced himself she finally got it and she was like, "Who the fuck are you?"

And he's all, "who the fuck are YOU?"

Sick professional meet and greet, each very impressed they've never even heard of each other

But they're successful because nobody knows their secret ... so only one person can leave in the morning, right?

... right?

ILU HAPPY BIRTHDAY. <3

[twilightknight17]

This time on P3R: Get in the car. We’re going to war. Atlus is just personally attacking me now.

(I’m half-joking. Probably.)

It’s the first day of December, and Ryoji was absent today. But I got a text from him after school asking me to meet him in the music room.

Specifically using the phrase “I need to see you right now.”

He’s sitting at the piano when we get there, by himself. Something is clearly wrong.

Don’t apologize. You’re important to me.

He’s not even sure what he wants to say. So he just thanks Minato for spending time with him, because he’s learned so many new things and got to experience so much, like the trip to Kyoto and just hanging out with everyone.

...oh. He learned to play the piano. For Minato.

Let’s do it let’s play together let’s play a duet asdfjkl;

We don’t have another time! T_T

He says that seeing the couples in Kyoto and spending time at the dorm has helped him understand what it means to build real connections with other people. They help each other overcome challenges and keep each other going. And they understand each other.

It’s… sweet, knowing what he is. He’s trying so hard to understand, and he likes people so much.

………

……Atlus. ATLUS. What is this? WHAT IS THIS? I’m not allowed to date this boy and you put THIS dialogue in this game how much more blatant can you GET OH MY GOD.

Hello, TVTropes editors, it’s not a crack ship or ships that pass in the night after a line like that.

...WHERE IS MY THIRD DIALOGUE OPTION. ATLUS. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Yes, I want to be more than friends, I love you, please, please, please, if I love you enough I can save yo--

FUUKA NOT NOW WE’RE HAVING A MOMENT.

Fuuka comes in and says that she was passing through and heard someone playing a beautiful song, so she thought she’d come in and listen to the performance. Which. Did you just hover outside the door after he stopped playing so you could interrupt at the worst moment?

That was mean. I’m sorry, Fuuka. But seriously.

She asks who was playing. It was Ryoji. He’s right there, Fuuka, come on--

Did my boyfriend launch himself out that window to escape this interaction? Oh my god.

I never should have taken my eyes off him.

I didn’t even really get to answer him. Those weren’t definitive answers.

God. Fuck. Atlus, why. Why would you do this to me.

All I can do is go home, and spend my evening doing whatever.

Ryoji’s still absent from school, and now Aigis is gone, too.

But there’s literally nothing I can do.

I guess I’ll go to my student council meeting.

...Odagiri-kun, I know I’ve been neglecting your link. But – and I say this with as much respect as I can manage when I’m busy worrying about my boyfriend – it has been over six months. Just let this go, holy hell.

I’d rather not go home, but I guess I have to. After all, I need to get some sleep before the plot decides to go haywire.

You’ve never woken up at midnight even once this entire month? God, I should have woken you up in Kyoto.

Also the fact that Aigis went after him without telling anyone else what was going on… no. We’re a team for a reason, Aigis!

But no. He’s “dangerous”. He’s her enemy.

He also doesn’t know what’s going on at this point.

Shoutout to Atlus for the butterfly wings when she activates her powers. Thematically appropriate for the papillon heart. But look at his face! He doesn’t understand what’s happening, and you’re trying to kill him!

It triggers his memory, though.

Ryoji is the thirteenth Arcana Shadow: Death. And ten years ago, he was broken into thirteen pieces because of an incomplete awakening in the Kirijo labs. During a fight on the Moonlight Bridge against Aigis, a robot created specifically to destroy shadows, she couldn’t defeat or destroy him, so she sealed him into the only available vessel.

So, y’all killed his whole family in your fight. Oof.

Aigis says she had no other choice but to seal Death in this kid. I guess when you’re 100% focused on your goal, it certainly would seem like that.

I am curious what happened to Minato after that. I’m surprised any of the remaining scientists didn’t snatch him up. Did Aigis just never mention what happened to Death?

Apparently not, because this poor kid was left to grow up alone, until his inevitable return to Iwatodai.

...he looks like he’s in pain, now that he’s remembered.

Aigis comes at him, even though he tells her not to because he’s stronger than the first time they fought. He’s got all of his pieces now. He doesn’t want to hurt her. And he deflects her no problem with what I’m assuming is Moonless Gown. But she keeps trying, even activating Orgia Mode, until she can’t anymore.

Fuuka had been scanning for Aigis, and SEES took off immediately when she found her, so now we’re arriving two minutes too late. Aigis is down, entirely shut off, and Ryoji is not doing well.

You didn’t want any of this. It’s not your fault.

He tells SEES that the shadows exist to bring the rebirth of the “maternal being”, and that the Appriser exists to draw her to him and allow her to awaken.

Overwhelming?

Incomparable?

Inevitable?

OLCE?

He explains that he was born ten years ago and sealed inside Minato, and that Minato returning to Iwatodai set all of this in motion.

Junpei, he’s awake during the Dark Hour and won against Aigis. There’s clearly something going on here.

...plus, listen to how sad he sounds.

No wonder. An awakening will take it out of you, and he awakened to something stronger than most of us can comprehend. Minato also realizes that Ryoji was probably Pharos all along.

This would be a great opportunity to carry him home like a damsel, though. I’m gonna pretend that’s what happened, especially after the music room conversation. And I KNOW I’m gonna have to go to school tomorrow, but I’m also going to pretend I don’t have to.

But yeah. Seriously, Atlus? For real? All of that?

Just end me.

I need to go write fic or something.

They deserve to make out on a piano.

I’ll do the sad explanation next time.

(Also I’m gonna hit the image limit. X’D)

[acourtofthought]

There is a place in the Hewn City.....

.... the Hewn City whose cruelty bothers Elain........

There was a place in the Court of Nightmares where even Keir and his elite squadron of Darkbringers did not dare tread. Once the Night Court’s enemies entered that place, they did not come out. Not alive, anyway.

There is a place in the Hewn City, whose cruelty bothers Elain, where even the worst in the Hewn City do not dare tread....

You know who does though?

Once the Night Court’s enemies entered that place, they did not come out. Not alive, anyway. Most of what remained of their bodies didn’t leave, either. Those went through the hatch in the center of the circular room—and into the pit of writhing beasts below. To their scales and claws and merciless hunger. The beasts did not feed often; they could receive a body every ten years and make it last, going into hibernation between meals. The trickling blood of the two Autumn Court males through the black stone floor’s grate woke them. Their snarls and hisses, their snapping tails and scraping claws should have incentivized the males chained to the chairs to talk. Azriel leaned against the wall by the lone door, Truth-Teller bloody in his hand. Cassian, a step beside him, and Feyre, on Az’s other side, watched as Rhys and Amren approached the two males.

the male bleeding from places Azriel knew would hurt but not kill. Az knew where to slice up a male without letting him bleed out. Knew how to make this last for days.

Cassian knew Rhys was asking about the torture—apologizing for making Feyre witness even the ten minutes Azriel had worked.

But Feyre, Cassian knew, had been aware of what she’d see before entering. And well aware that these ten minutes had only been the opening movements in a symphony of pain that Azriel could conduct with brutal efficiency.

Cassian shut out the thought of all the males whom he hadn’t left standing—who all had worried families as well. Every death had a weight, sent a ripple into the world, into time. It was too easy to forget that. He glanced to Az, but his brother’s face was stone-cold. If Az regretted what they’d done, he revealed no hint of it. Cassian tucked in his wings. “We’ll be as fast as we can.”

They left the males in the room, blood still trickling down to the writhing beasts.

If the cruelty of the Hewn City bothers Elain and there is an even worse place within the Hewn City where the residents and leaders of the Hewn City do not dare to go but the IC (and especially Azriel) do in order to torture others through extremely cruel means than tell me how Elain is going to be fine with that?

I've seen so many posts where readers claim Elain is fine with what Az does, that she already knows (even though the bonus chapter specifically tells us she does not) or won't care. But if Feyre is bothered by it and Feyre has shown to be more morally gray (not to mention married to Rhys!) than Elain, then I honestly want to know why anyone is trying to sweep Elain's feelings about cruelty under the rug? Should she have to sacrifice what she's comfortable with just to force E/riels puzzle pieces together? Saying that love is all that matters so Elain will just come to accept something that goes against her beliefs and values?

This is not the same thing as an Archeron being uncomfortable around their mate at the start of their journey because they're fighting their hidden feelings (as we saw with both Feyre and Nesta), it's something that makes up Elain's personality as an individual outside of any love interest, a part that someone who claims to like her should respect.

[konohamaru-sensei]

happy birthday @foolishk, i love you so.

laxus x oc / fantasy au

He ripped open the wooden door with full swing, almost pulling it out of its hinges and let it crush into the stone wall on the other side. The dim light of the room spilled into the darkness of the corridor and Laxus was faintly reminded of the first time he had entered this room. How endlessly being lost in underground corridors had led him straight to this heavy, wooden door.

Big steps forward into the room, following the flickering light that illuminated the nymph-tank he’d grown so accustomed to. Back when he was here first, when he had seen the nymph for the first time, it all had been so mysterious and scary, as if every part of this room was specifically designed to keep him away.

Laxus had known as a teenager that his father was shady and weird, that he had abused and misused his mother and shamed his grandfather, but just the extends of his crimes had not been clear to him until he had found this room, until he had found himself standing face to face with such a powerful, but utterly helpless creature.

How long she’d been trapped in their cellar when he found her, he did not know, just that everytime he came to see her after this, her bright blue hair faded into grey. Whatever experiments his father was doing on her it was definitely killing her. Being found by his father several times while snooping around, Laxus took the beating that followed it, but never stopped coming.

He was young and weak then, soon to be sent away to the capital to go to a school, too far away to stop whatever his father was doing. It had given him so much time to get stronger and smarter, to research nymphs and figure out that what his father was seeking was their immortality. Despicable, to climb all the way into the ice mountains just to take a creature's free life away.

Now he was grown and over it. It was time to let her go home, even if he was breaking the law by crossing the border into ice territory. For the last ten years his father had enacted unspeakable suffering on the nymph and Laxus was here to rectify at least parts of it.

Her hair had more grey than he’d ever seen it. When he looked up into the illuminated tank, watched her sway back and forth like a flag in the wind, he thought back of how beautiful she had looked the first time he’d seen her. Nymphs were magical, they were powerful, they were water and not water at the same time. They lived secluded and humans never got to see them, still here she was in front of his eyes.

Slowly, gently, not to scare her, he tapped with his finger against the glass of the tank. The nymph opened her eyes equally slowly, probably expecting his father to stand on the other side. When she finally actively looked at who was in front of her, her eyes suddenly went wide and a big bubble of air exited her mouth.

Laxus knew she could speak underwater, but he could not understand. Assuming that she might have said his name he nodded and pointed at himself and then at the crowbar in his right hand. Her eyes followed his hand movement to the metal piece and she instantly dashed to the back of her tank.

“I’m not going to hurt you with it,” he yelled, but the fear in her eyes told her that she didn’t believe him. Oh, what had his father done to this poor one, he thought and then waved the crowbar around in the direction of the machines surrounding her tank.

She wasn’t connected to anything, he needed to make sure of that. Laxus had always liked playing with electricity, so he knew it went well through water, so he needed to avoid giving her a shock. He turned to the console and took a swing at it, crashing metal onto metal and grinning satisfied when there was a loud humm of malfunctioning machinery.

He looked back to the tank and the lights were still on, the water in the tube still flowing. Right, again, he thought and took another swing at the console, this time crushing half of it and causing a spark to almost burn a hole into his clothes. He checked the tank again and still there was no power outage there. Whatever was keeping the gates closed must be totally disconnected to the console.

The nymph apparently was beginning to understand that he was trying to help her so she swam back to where he was standing, tapping with her long, slender fingers against the glass from the insides. When he looked up at her she pointed over her shoulder, big air bubbles leaving her mouth.

“The opening is at the back?” he asked loudly in hopes his voice would carry. The numpy nodded and turned to show him. In tandem with her swings Laxus followed her to the back of the tube where he could finally see what kept her connected.

He turned the crowbar over his head and swung it down one more time. A loud nose, more sparks flying, and the contraption fell apart. His father seemed to have made the control console more sturdy than this one. And that even though he must have been aware that nymphs can’t survive if they are lacking water.

His father, Laxus realised, had simply not cared if the water ran out of the tank and killed the nymph. He hadn’t cared about her as a living, breathing creature of this planet at all. 

He could feel the anger bubbling again and told himself that he had promised to deal with his father at a later time. Right now this nymph needed to be let out of her confinement. He was going to show her the weather at the surface, he was going to let her out in their family lake, give her time to swim and breathe and find the colour in her life again.

The nymph tapped below her nabe to the glass of the tube and then made a little swimming motion. Laxus followed her movements and took the metal bar into both hands. “That would probably crush the tube and bring the water out,” he said, “My father might have put a drainage in, something that gets it out quickly. That could harm you.”

She hesitated for a second, but then began doing her swinging motions again. He wasn’t satisfied with the idea of taking her out of the water, even if it was just to carry her to the surface. Normal nymphs would have no problem dealing with this for a short amount of time, but who knew how healthy this one was. She didn’t look healthy.

An air bubble left her mouth, then another. “Fine! Hold on tight,” Laxus said and took a wide swing into the glass of the tube. First a small crack apparead, then it got bigger and bigger as water started spilling out. Finally, the glass broke apart, leaving only an avalanche of water behind.

Laxus was pushed back by the force of it, suddenly surrounded by raging waves. He paddled helplessly with his arms trying to find something, anything to hold on to, when his back crashed into the wall behind him. He felt the blood on his tongue and coughed, which just forced more water down his throat.

Suddenly he could feel slender hands sling themselves around his arm and as he cracked open an eye he saw grey hair right in front of his nose. Her eyes were open and seeing through the glass filled water and though he must have been heavy to lift, she did it without looking like he was a burden.

She was so graceful moving through water like this, as if the water and her were one thing. He could not forgive his father for taking her away from her sisters, her ice and snow lakes to be trapped here. He could not forgive himself that it took him ten years to make sure she was free.

Though it felt like time had stood still, only a second passed until she had successfully not only brought him to the surface, but laid him down on a plank of metal to give him something to hold on to.

“Are you alright, Laxus?” she asked and though he was shocked by the fact that she knew his name, he was more shocked by the sound of her voice. A melodic rhythm, like drops on the surface. He’d never heard anything like it.

He grabbed the metal: “Yes.” Then, which a moment to collect himself, he realised that he’d been right about this father putting in a drainage. Though the room had been filled to the brim with water not long ago, it was slowly sinking down.

“But,” he said quickly and grabbed an arm of hers. “Are you going to be alright if the water is gone?”

She considered this for a moment. He realised how long it must have been since she’d been without water, that maybe every measurement she used to have was no longer applicable. “I will be fine,” she concluded quietly.

The drain continued, soon Laxus could stand on his own two feet again. He put himself up to full height. “I will carry you upstairs as fast as possible,” he declared and grabbed the small creature in front of him. The nymph let out a small squeak when he pulled her into his arms, but she did not resist. Turning towards the door of the room he made sure one of her legs was still in water if possible. Give her more time.

Then he ran. Grabbing the nymph close to his chest and hurrying up the maze of stairs into the main house. The nymph was holding on to him, burying her head into his neck as if to hide away from what was to come. Laxus had gotten to know the underground areas of their house well in the days and weeks leading up to this rescue; he knew the fastest way out was through the staff's quarters.

When he finally kicked in the door to the gardens it felt like ages had passed and yet it was probably not longer than half an hour. He stopped for a moment in the sunlight wanting to see how the nymph was reacting to being at the surface.

He had believed to find her looking at the sunlight, but she was looking only at him.

And she was smiling too.

He swallowed hard.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 10: They Scream & They Cry

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Rachel Dawes proves herself to be a problem, and Vanessa deals with an issue in the basement.

Word Count: 2,696

Notes: Warnings for depictions of murder and blood.

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Chapter 1: Fear Will Find You

Vanessa leaned forward, the uncomfortable chair creaking slightly with her movements. The courthouse smelled musty, like old papers and dust and wood. Putting the folder she’d been glancing through aside as she waited for the trial to start, she rested her chin on her arms, folded over the back of the chair in front of her, foot tapping impatiently as they went through the usual proceedings and arguments. The courtroom was mostly empty. Probably a good thing. Security had been tighter ever since the incident with Joe Chill a few years ago.

Her eyes slid lazily to fix on the back of Zsasz’s head, more specifically on the tally marks carved into the skin all along his neck, the scars disappearing down under the collar of shirt.

Really. Even if getting him moved to Arkham wasn’t a favor to Falcone, Zsasz was undeniably, extremely mentally unwell. He belonged with them anyway. Of all the thugs they’d had moved to the asylum for Falcone, this one was by far the most justified.

Shame that Rachel Dawes had such a deep-seated hatred for Jonathan that she couldn’t see that.

Dawes was becoming more and more of a problem, going so far as to show up at their apartment in the middle of the night once to try to yell at Jonathan regarding his acceptance to testify in favor of Zsasz’s defense. And while she’d been quieter since they’d filed a formal complaint about her with the DA, Vanessa still often caught her shooting them hateful glares from across the courthouse from time to time.

Shooting a quick glance to Dawes’s dark ponytail on the prosecution’s side of the room, Vanessa cocked her head, considering. If things got bad enough, they would have to decide what to do about her. She would love to have the chance to take her down to the basement, but they really couldn’t risk arousing too much suspicion at the moment.

When Jonathan finally stepped up to the stand, she straightened, lips settling into a tiny smile as she watched him sit down gracefully and begin to speak, voice low and even.

She really did love watching him work.

“In my opinion, Mr. Zsasz is as much a danger to himself as to others and prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation,” he said, eloquently. 

The case was pretty shut and close, all things considered. Dawes was clearly unhappy about it, huffing as she gathered up her papers. Vanessa would have liked to have shaken her. The man was covered in tally marks he’d carved into his own skin, and in their evaluations of him he had displayed a clear compulsion to kill. He needed treatment, no matter what Dawes thought. 

They were done in time for lunch. Pulling out her phone to send a quick message to their people at the asylum to prepare for Zsasz’s transfer, Vanessa gathered up her papers, standing and heading to the doorway to wait for Jonathan.

“Hey,” he greeted her as he came out, pecking a quick kiss to her check.

“Hi,” she began to walk alongside him towards the exit. “We have half an hour. You want to go get lunch before we head back?”

“Sure.”

“Dr. Crane!” a voice shouted from behind them. Oh, come on.

Vanessa groaned, but bit her tongue. 

“Miss. Dawes,” Jonathan greeted, with all the enthusiasm of someone just asked to drink spoiled milk. 

“You really think a man who butchers people for the mob doesn’t belong in jail?” she demanded, walking briskly beside them.

“I would hardly have testified to that otherwise, would I, Miss. Dawes?” Jonathan said smoothly. Vanessa pushed a lock of hair back. How he dealt with this woman on a regular basis, she had no idea. Had it been her, Dawes would have gotten her skull caved in a while ago. Dawes moved to stand in front of them, blocking the way to the doors.

“This is the third of Falcone’s thugs you’ve had declared insane and moved into your asylum.”

“The work offered by organized crime must have an attraction to the insane,” Jonathan responded dryly. Vanessa shouldered past Dawes with a glare, Jonathan following her. She could hear Dawes’s heels clicking on the floor behind them. Oh, what she would give to be able to take one of those heels and jam it into her windpipe…

“Or the corrupt,” Dawes called after them, the implication clear as day. Jonathan stopped, glancing over at where Dawes’s boss was standing, speaking to some woman who was probably from his office.

“Mr. Finch. I think you should check with Miss. Dawes here just what implications your office has authorized her to make. If any,” with that, he stalked away. Vanessa glanced over her shoulder, smirking at the sight of Finch rushing over to Dawes, clearly admonishing her.

“I’m beginning to think that we might have to get a restraining order against her or something,” she remarked as she pushed open the door and stepped outside, Jonathan right behind her. He groaned, pulling off his glasses to clean them before replacing them on his nose. She inclined her head. “You want to go to that sandwich place at the end of the street?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That sounds good.”

“Seriously though,” she said, once they’d made their way down the street, gotten their food, and sat down at a table. “What are we going to do about her? She’s not letting up. And it could be bad if she decides to start sniffing around the asylum.”

“Yes,” he agreed, frowning as he chewed around a bite of food, swallowing. “I think that I’ll ask Falcone to take care of her for us.”

Vanessa frowned. They had an arrangement with Falcone. He brought in the shipments for a price. Keeping his thugs out of prison was just a sweetener to make sure he didn’t get all huffy with them over anything. But asking him to do this…it might mean that he would feel they were indebted to him. And that was a dangerous position to be in. “I could do it. There’s no need to get him involved.”

“He’s the reason that Dawes is sticking her nose in our business in the first place,” Jonathan reasoned. “Besides, considering all the public altercations that we’ve both had with her, if anything happens to her, we’ll be some of the first suspects. Our involvement in whatever happens should be as minimal as possible.”

Vanessa wrinkled her nose, pouting. “I hate that you’re making this make sense.”

Jonathan flashed him a smirk. She sighed.

“Fine. Let him deal with her,” she huffed. “I was looking forward to getting to use my ax.”

Jonathan chuckled, reaching over to pat her hand. “I know, Nes,” he shrugged. “But either way, she’ll be gone.”

“You have a meeting with Falcone soon, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’ll talk to him about it then.”

“You want me to come?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I can handle Falcone.”

“Okay.”

He stoked the back of her hand with his pale fingers. “Things are going to start happening fast now, Nes.”

“I know,” she chewed on her bottom lip. “The boss still says that he’s coming?”

“He is.”

“Well. Won’t that be interesting.”

“Yes,” his eyes were far off, clearly thinking very hard about something. “Yes, I think it will be.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Doctor Sullivan?”

She’d just gotten back to her office, having finished her afternoon appointments, ready to start on the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated in the corner of her desk. 

“Hopkins,” she greeted the guard, beckoning him in. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, but Dr. Crane is in with a patient, and I know he doesn’t like to be disturbed…”

“What’s going on?”

“Zsasz is settling in well,” he shifted from foot to foot. Vanessa rolled her eyes. 

“But…?” she urged.

“We have a bit of a situation downstairs.”

She looked up at the ceiling, trying hard to fight back the exasperated headache beginning to build behind her eyes. With a deep sigh, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a hair tie and some bobby pins. With quick, expert movements, she pulled her long black hair up into a bun at the top of her head.

“Show me,” she commanded.

Hopkins led her to the elevator, her key sliding easily into the slot at the bottom of the panel of buttons, elevator rattling as it descended into the bowels of the asylum.

She followed Hopkins down the hall, into one of the many side rooms. Seated at a table was one of the workers who was part of the production team they had making the…ahem, medicine, down there. Two guards were standing over her. Vanessa looked between her and Hopkins. “What’s this?”

“We caught her snooping around in the lab.”

Her eyes darted to the woman, who looked back at her anxiously. She took a step forward, curling a finger under her chin so that the woman was looking directly up at her.

“What’s your name?”

“Betty,” the woman said. An uneasiness had entered her eyes at Vanessa’s calmness.

“Betty,” Vanessa repeated. “What were you doing in the restricted lab, Betty?”

“I was just curious,” Betty said. Vanessa waited expectantly for her to say more.

“That’s all?”

Betty nodded.

“No one hired you to find anything…to steal notes…nothing like that?”

“No,” Betty said, voice weak. Vanessa stared in her face for a long moment. She was telling the truth. That was a relief, at the very least. The last thing that they needed was their workers getting hired by Falcone or some other slimeball to steal their research. She took a step back.

“She take anything?”

“No.”

“Move anything? Touch anything?”

“No, I don’t think so. We got to her before that.”

“Hm,” Vanessa nodded, eyes staring at nothing. “Get her up.”

Betty began to shake and whimper as the guards each grabbed her by one arm and hauled her to her feet.

“Please, Dr. Sullivan, I’m sorry–”

“Shut up,” Vanessa said evenly.

“I was just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Vanessa shrugged. “Bring her,” spinning on her heel, she marched out into the hall, pushing open the doors to the main work area. Everyone ceased their work and chatter the moment that they saw her, seeming to shrink in on themselves. Vanessa internally purred at the reaction. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, voice echoing. “Your colleague here made a very, very stupid decision. At this point, I would hope that all of you would know how Dr. Crane and I feel about idiots. And snitches. And snoopers. But perhaps it is time for a reminder,” she reached into her pocket. Behind her, Betty had started to sob. “Don’t look away,” she ordered, staring down at the workers before her. “I’ll know if you do.”

Fast as lighting, she spun, and grasped Betty by a handful of hair at the base of the scalp, yanking her head back. The guards held Betty’s arms out, so that she couldn’t struggle. Twirling the scalpel once in her hand, Vanessa plunged it into Betty’s chest and dragged it down, slicing her open from her collarbone all the way down her stomach nearly to her groin. Betty screamed, the sound a bellowing, twisted echo throughout the room. Blood burst in rivers from the wound, pouring copiously out onto the ground, some of it spurting out warmly onto Vanessa’s face. Betty screamed and writhed, gurgling before she finally went still, skin steadily growing more and more pale as the blood drained from her. The guards let her fall with an unceremonious thud to the ground.

Staring down at the body, ensuring that there was no possibility of life left in her, Vanessa raised her blood flecked face to the other workers.

“Let this be a reminder to all of you to stay out of the private fucking lab,” she announced. Satisfied that the message had gotten through, she nodded. “Get back to work.”

They all just about fell over one another to get back to their stations. She turned to the guards.

“And get rid of that,” she nodded to Betty. They scooped her up by a shoulder each, dragging her away. “Hopkins,” she crooked a finger at him, and he rushed over to her. “What’s the status on production?”

“Everything is on schedule.”

“Good. I’ll be in the lab. I don’t want to be disturbed unless necessary.”

“Yes, Dr. Sullivan.”

She nodded, spinning to the door and pausing as she was met with Jonathan’s smirking face, leaning against the doorframe, eyes glimmering as he watched the display. He held out a hand to her, beckoning her to come to him, and she did, his hand resting against her shoulder blade as he steered her through the doors and into one of the side rooms. 

“We had a snooper,” she explained.

“I heard,” his hands landed on either side of her face, smearing the blood there, not caring that it stained his hands as he tilted her head up, and kissed her hard. Vanessa clutched at the lapels of his suit jacket, lips parting against his, moaning softly at the contact. When he broke away and leaned back to examine her, one of his thumb massaged over her cheek. “It really is a pleasure to watch you work, Nes.”

She smiled in spite of herself, leaning deeper into his touch. He pecked her lips again, and then reached around her to pick up a rag, wetting it with a trickle of water from the sink and bringing it to her face, tenderly cleaning away the blood. Vanessa’s eyes fluttered closed at his gentle touch, hands bracing against the counter behind her. Her head tilted back towards the dim lights in the room, her veins alight with the thrill of death at her hands, lips still tingling from the pleasure of her husband’s kiss, and the scent of blood still lodged in her nose.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“No more favors. Someone is sniffing around,” Jonathan said, as soon as he was seated across from Falcone’s desk.

“Hey, I scratch your back, you scratch mine, doc. I’m bringing in the shipments,” Falcone argued. Jonathan’s brows pinched. He’d always hated that saying.

“We are paying you for that,” he reminded him simply. 

“Maybe money isn’t as interesting to me as favors,” Falcone suggested. God, he hated working with him. The man was slimy and idiotic. His thugs were bumbling fools and his operation was not run nearly as smoothly as he would have liked everyone to believe. Lifting a hand, Jonathan removed his glasses, so that the cold blue of his eyes was unimpeded. Vanessa had once told him that his eyes were practically hypnotic. That he could get anyone to do whatever he wanted if he focused them correctly. And he made a conscious effort not to blink. It unsettled people.

“I am more than aware that you are not intimidated by me, Mr. Falcone. But you know who I’m working for, and when he gets here–”

“He–he’s coming to Gotham?” Falcone interrupted, a level of uneasiness appearing in his face. Aha. Good.

“Yes, he is,” Jonathan assured. “And when he gets here, he’s not going to wanna hear that you have endangered our operation just so you could get your thugs out of a little jail time.”

Falcone nodded, clearly unhappy. But the fear of Jonathan’s boss was more than enough to put him back in his place. “Who’s bothering you?”

“There’s a girl at the DA’s office.”

“We’ll buy her off.”

“Not this one,” he said. Dawes was far too much of an idiot goody two shoes to be swayed by simple money. No, she actually believed in the system. Stupid girl.

“Idealist, huh?” Falcone said with an unbothered snort. “Well, there’s an answer to that too.”

Jonathan shook his head. “I don’t want to know,” he lied. The less he knew, the more believable it would be when the police inevitably came to ask him some questions about a mysterious murder or disappearance. 

“Yes, you do,” Falcone said, looking at him knowingly.

Jonathan said nothing. 

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[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Hunt - a Malevolent fic

Catch it, she thought, exhaling.

Hunt it, she thought, inhaling.

Her shadow crossed the thing, and it went very still.

Now! she thought, and swung the noose.

Part of the Surrogate series.

AO3

-------

It was an ugly little thing.

A hand long, thin as a carrot, writhing like some kind of carrion worm, it was a strange black with mottled gray shadows. It had five legs with uneven, clever fingers, thin like string, perfect for wriggling into secret places, breaking locks, injecting infection.

The ugly thing scrabbled outside Arthur’s door, trying and failing to get through the many layered spells of protection and repulsion Hastur maintained there. Faroe eyed the intruder, breathing through her mouth to stay quiet, feeling her breath warm the sphere she’d warded around herself. 

How dare it go after her Arthur.

Her fist clenched. She wanted to kill it, to just lunge out and stomp it to death. Beside her, Nibbles shifted, similarly impatient. Dis placed one hand on each of her charges, on Nibble’s side, on Faroe’s back, and tapped her fingers twice in the wait signal.

The ugly thing climbed higher, trying a different spot. It had no chance of getting through. It wasn’t even truly sapient—an automated spell, seeking Arthur for who knew what—and would simply follow its pre-programmed orders until it was caught or faded in the light of dawn.

Nibbles made an unhappy sound, soft.

Their noises were covered thanks to Dis’ wards, but that wasn’t the point. This was not just hunting; this was training to hunt , and that meant being fucking quiet because there were beings out there who’d hear them no matter what spells they used.

Faroe made the shh sign at Nibbles, who dared to look bashful.

Dis nodded. She lightly tapped Faroe’s back thrice. Time to move.

Faroe crouched down, breathing deep and slow, absolutely silent on her soft leather soles. In her right hand, she held a small, dully glowing noose, a horrifying and tiny version of a hangman’s tool; in her left, a backup, she held her wooden knife.

Catch it, she thought, exhaling.

Hunt it, she thought, inhaling.

Her shadow crossed the thing, and it went very still.

Now! she thought, and swung the noose.

The creature was not alive, and had been given specific orders for being caught : it tried to run.

Faroe was practically ten (almost), and was ready. She slammed her wooden knife down in front of the thing, sending it scurrying (automatic) in the reverse direction, right at her little noose—which activated its spell, and it looped around the thing’s form, cinching so tightly it twisted that nasty, charcoal skin. She yanked the intruder off the floor.

It twisted wildly, but made no sound.

Dis tapped Nibbles three times.

Nibbles lunged, mouths open, and snagged the creature—not biting it in half, but holding it so it could not slip away.

Dis dissolved the spells around them. “Well done,” she said, approaching. 

“I want who sent this,” said Faroe in a low voice, rough.

“So do we all,” said Dis, tone flat. “Unfortunately, it probably has its signature hidden like the rest.”

“I want to check, anyway.”

“Sure. We can check. Come on. Good practice,” Dis said, and started down the hall.

Faroe jogged to keep up, sheathing her wooden knife, leaving the noose dangling around the creature’s waist.

Nibbles wanted to kill it so badly , but Faroe needed it alive, so. She satisfied herself by stomping on and popping the three better-spelled things that Faroe couldn’t see—all trying to get into Arthur’s room, too—and then trotted after her charge with a pleased skip in her step.

#

It wasn't carrying poison. It wasn't carrying a curse. It was designed to take, not give.

“Why do they keep going after Arthur?” Faroe murmured as they tossed the hideous thing into the crystal observation tank.

Dis secured the lid. “I have some ideas, but nothing sure. What I do know is him coming into the limelight like he has is a direct cause.”

“Correlation is not causation,” Faroe quoted at her, chin raised.

Dis’ lips twitched. Fuck, she liked this kid. “True. But in this case, I really think they’re linked.”

“Why?”

“Timing, first. Which can be coincidence, but here’s what we’ve observed: these things started after his reveal as host for… uh. Hastur’s spawn.” Dis cleared her throat. “They increased after the poisoning, and Hastur moved heaven and hell to save him.”

Faroe frowned. “What do they want?”

“One of these things will eventually have more instructions,” said Dis, waving her hands over several gems inset in the container’s base. “So far, we haven’t caught anything more complex than ‘gather sample,’ but we will in time.”

Faroe didn’t like in time . It always made her do what Dis thought of as her unhappy dance: foot to foot, shifting her weight, hands lightly clenched, as though preparing to leap at some eventual resolution and punch it in the nuts.

The container hummed.

Inside it, the horrible dark creature shuddered, shed its shadow-disguise, and went a strangely fleshy white, unpleasant and shiny. It whipped, undulating, unable to free itself.

Faroe had asked once if they felt pain.

Dis hadn’t known if they had or not. Then one had gotten loose and attacked Nibbles, trying (and failing) to burrow into her, between her wooden plates.

Faroe had gone dead pale, looked at Arthur’s door (behind which Arthur slept, unaware and vulnerable), and stopped caring whether or not these things could feel pain.

“Same as the others,” Dis murmured, studying the gems. “Signature completely erased. Whoever’s sending these is big, princess. Maybe equal to your dad.”

“Fuck,” Faroe whispered, then peeked to see if Dis heard.

Dis heard. And did not particularly care. “Looks like it’s hollow again.”

“For samples,” said Faroe.

“Yeah. Hate those teeth.”

Faroe shuddered. She didn’t like them either, and given the monsters she’d grown up around, that was saying something.

The creature’s teeth were sharp, needle-thin at their tips, widening shockingly to triangular bases as if designed to bite and scoop what they’d bitten. The thing was lined with these mouths, all over, asymmetrical.

Faroe was clearly still thinking. “But that doesn’t prove it’s connected to his reveal.”

Dis smiled. “Good. You’re right, it doesn’t.”

“So what convinced you?”

And this was the part Dis didn’t want to explain because it probably meant Hastur would have to get involved—and would be none too pleased the three of them had been sneaking around, playing assassin. “Did you set up the alarm wards the way I said in your room?”

Faroe looked caught. “Um. I’m going to?”

“I know Nibbles watches for you,” Dis said gently. “But in the end, your safety is always in your own hands. Set them up tonight.”

Faroe huffed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Nibbles huffed.

“I know, old girl,” said Dis, patting Nibbles’ wooden plates. “Nobody can protect her like you. But even you’re not omnipresent. Right?”

Another huff, this one more agreeable.

“You’ll have your answer tomorrow,” said Dis, and snapped her fingers in front of the gems.

The creature in the container froze, stiffened, and exploded into a puff of white dust.

#

The day went as planned, all signs normal. She caught Parker and Sunny sneaking back from a dip in the lake before dawn (and reminded herself it wasn’t her problem). Heard about minor incursions out in the field—reports of battles in the Dreamlands, scuffles over Hastur’s newly acquired properties. Picked up weird news about ghouls and some kind of underground excursion (she couldn’t get more information). Saw all manner of beings coming to Court who had no business being there, no business with Carcosa, no business with Hastur, but just wanted to see what was going on. 

Hastur was making waves, and Dis didn’t like it. “You’re not the damned head of security anymore,” she reminded herself, then kept reading stolen reports, anyway.

Lester bitched through his training.

Parker laughed when he got knocked down.

Faroe excelled (not that Dis let her know just how well she was doing, lest she slow her progress) at every exercise she was given.

And night came, and everyone went to bed, and Hastur left (which was the only reason they could all sneak around uncaught), and Dis met up with Faroe, prepared.

Very prepared.

Faroe looked spooked, and that was expected. “Another one,” she said. “Just like outside Arthur’s door. But this one… this one was outside mine.” She indicated the creature wriggling in Nibbles’ jaws.

“Correct,” said Dis. “Nibbles has been eating them and not telling you, which is great for safety, but… not great for learning much.”

Nibbles huffed.

“You did good,” Dis assured her, patting. “This is just a new thing, not condemnation of the old thing. You did good.”

Nibbles preened a little.

“So?” said Dis. “What have you found?”

Faroe was a little pale as she held up a fishbowl-like container, and Nibbles spat the invader into it. “They’re only at Arthur’s door and mine. This specific thing.”

“Yes,” said Dis. “And?”

Faroe swallowed. “Why would they want samples from me and him?”

“Work it out, princess,” said Dis. “You can do it.”

“Everybody knows what Arthur looks like now,” Faore said slowly. “Not just the dignitaries invited to the galas. Everybody. And everybody knows what I look like, too.”

“Good. Now, think broadly,” said Dis. “What are the circumstances of his revelation to court?”

“John,” said Faroe. “Whom… everybody thinks is my dad’s spawn.”

Gods, this kid was smart. Dis was proud of her. “Almost there.”

Faroe swallowed. “So that makes Arthur tied—however lightly—to two of my dad’s kids, one spawned, and one not. Though… though he’s never told anyone where I came from.” Faroe looked up. “Are they trying to hurt Arthur to get to him?”

“Close,” said Dis. “I think they’re trying to prove a connection between you.”

Faroe’s eyes popped. “You mean… that we’re related.”

“I overheard some rumors,” said Dis. “And rumors don’t usually mean shit; they grow wild, they interbreed, they’re nutso. But this one was that you were obviously Hastur’s spawn, too, just… made with someone, rather than, uh. Produced.”

“Agamogenesis,” said Faroe, distracted and completely unbothered by concepts she’d known all her life. “They want to know dad made me with Arthur. But why?”

“That, I don’t really know,” said Dis. “It’s not like that knowledge could really be used. Everybody already knows he’s got it bad for his ‘court composer,’ but Hastur would just smash whoever tried to blackmail him.”

Faroe bit her lower lip.

Dis waited.

“Do we need to tell dad?” said Faroe slowly.

“If I were still captain of security, I already would have,” said Dis. “But I’m not.”

And now the look Faroe gave was not that of a practically-ten-year-old. It was hard, firm, and a little grim. “So you’ll do as I order—tell or not tell.”

“Correct.”

Faroe took a deep breath and held it.

Nibbles bleated and bonked her lightly, a helpful nuzzle.

“Yeah,” whispered Faroe. “We’ve already gone too far to avoid getting in trouble over this. So. At this point, we might as well see it through.”

“To what end?”

Faroe frowned. “I don’t know yet.”

“I think, princess,” said Dis slowly, “you’ll need to figure that out soon. Whatever you choose to do here, if you make it decisive , an extension of your will as the daughter of the King in Yellow, Duchess of Ythill, it’ll alter how Hastur responds. You know. As lord of Carcosa, instead of just an overprotective father.”

That seemingly had never occurred to Faroe before. “Ooooh,” she said, eyes wide, lips pursed.

Dis hoped she hadn’t planted a terrible idea too early for Faroe to handle it.

“All right,” said Faroe quietly. “By tomorrow, I will have made my decision.” She sounded… grown. Like this decision mattered. Like she felt the weight of choices that affected more than just herself.

Dis nodded. “Good. Go on and take the night.”

“But we haven’t hunted yet,” Faroe whined, flipping right back into practically-ten.

“You have a big tangle to think through,” said Dis. “Tonight, that’s your practice. Connotations and all, you have to think through it.”

“Fine,” Faroe sighed. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Good night.”

Faroe closed her bedroom door, and Dis heard her feed the captured thing to Nibbles while complaining about tonight’s change of plans.

Dis laughed quietly to herself. Kids.

#

The day was normal. Parker sneaking back from the lake (again). Passive-aggressive foolishness from visitors, never quite loud enough to catch someone’s wrath. The cooks freaking out and getting into little panicky arguments before serving any food; Arthur and John arguing like an old married couple while writing ethereal music.

More talk of the ghouls doing something weird, but it was unsubstantiated and vague, so Dis just logged it away.

(“You’re not head of security,” she reminded herself.)

Normal.

Faroe said not one word to her father about their excursions. Not one word about what they’d found. That told Dis what the decision had been even before evening fell.

Dis checked. The wards in front of both Lester doors were still quite solid. Honestly, it worried her; whoever was sending these things had the patience and foresight not to send anything that might set off an alarm, but relied on a moment of distraction from their creator. That felt like strategy.

After dinner, after they all went to bed, after Hastur left (and after Dis caught Parker and Sunny sneaking out for an illicit dip in the Lake again ), Faroe was ready.

It turned out Dis had not predicted Faroe’s response, after all.

#

“I have come to my decision,” said Faroe upon opening her door, already in her role as daughter of a god and not child. “Here is the one we captured tonight.”

Dis eyed the hideous creature, writhing uselessly in its bowl, asymmetrical mouths chomping nothing. “And?”

“Do you have tracking spells that can’t be detected?” said Faroe.

Dis frowned. “To a certain level. Yes.” To most levels, but she couldn’t admit that, lest it lead to questions.

“Then I suggest we hunt the hunter,” said Faroe, and did something Dis was not at all prepared for. She handed the bowl to Nibbles, who held it via an enormous mouth created for the occasion. Then she opened the lid and put her hand in its place.

Oh, what the fuck— “Wait!” said Dis.

The creature leaped up, super quick, and bit.

Faroe did not wince or cry out.

It dropped back down and went nuts, trying to dig through the glass, mindlessly trying to take its bloody prize in one direction without any reasoning ability to consider the exit past Faroe’s hand.

“There,” said Faroe, healing the small bite. “Cast the tracker and let it go.”

“Faroe!” Dis’ tone was sharper than she liked, but what she wanted to do was curse the girl out (would have, if this had been a soldier under her), and socially, she couldn’t. “You better have a good explanation for this. That could have been venomous. At the least, some kind of infection—”

“It was already thoroughly disinfected before you arrived,” said Faroe, chin raised. “It’s an equivalent wound to a deep blister from an uneven spear handle. We’re fine.”

Dis stared. She sighed. “You’re sure about this. I don’t love the idea of giving this guy what he wants, whoever they are.”

“The only reason it doesn’t have samples of our blood, sweat, and some flesh already is they haven’t gone to the training grounds,” said Faroe.

Smart, smart girl. “That’s… a good point.”

“Also, Arthur has bled all over the palace, for one reason or another,” said Faroe. “Again—they should already have it, if they knew the inner workings of this place. They don’t. All they were able to discover was our bedrooms.”

“They can do a lot with blood, Faroe,” said Dis quietly. “Especially willingly given.”

Faroe hadn’t thought of that. She froze.

“You did well here,” said Dis. “I think you have the right idea. The thing I want to do is make sure it’s not your blood and flesh they get. I don’t care about the training grounds. Someone can be good at picking locks; it doesn’t mean you give up and leave the back door open.”

Faroe wrinkled her nose. Sighed. “You’re right.”

“You’re a smart kid,” said Dis. “The only advantage I have here is experience. This plan can still work—but not with this one. We have to take it out… and I think I know just whose blood to give them in your place.”

“All right,” said Faroe, still deflated, and fed the thing to Nibbles.

#

It was an ugly little thing. Long and wiry, slick and slimy, unevenly constructed and sufficient for one night’s use. It got lucky tonight (or so its owner assumed, and had been counting on), catching the princess as she opened her door to go for a walk for whatever human reason.

It got in one good bite and ran, disappearing (luckier still) before the goat-thing could catch it. Through the pipes, through the sewers, through places so warded and deadly that no living thing could manage, and indeed, it was already shaking and barely whole by the time it reached the portal outside Carcosa and far from Hastur’s purview.

The sample was tested.

“False. This is some adult human male, blond, suffused with non-Carcosan magic, willingly given,” complained the Mi-go checking it. “Not the girl’s.”

“What?” said Pers, leaning in.

“Impossible,” said Cthaeghya, flapping her wings in anger. “That design was perfect. It couldn’t mistake its target that badly.”

“False,” said the Mi-go.

Oryx laughed sharply. “I told you.”

Vorvadoss sighed. “So this was all for nothing, like I said.”

His twin sister rumbled, pleased, green flame licking all around her. “On the contrary,” Yaggdytha said. “This confirms it.”

“How?” snapped Vorvadoss.

“Because they are going to great lengths to hide it,” she said. “I’m sure now.”

“False. ‘Sure’ is not good enough,” said the Mi-go researcher. “Proof is all that matters.”

“Well, suit yourself,” said Yaggdytha. “Dick around all you want. I’m sending a request.”

“He’s gonna say no,” pointed out the weird guy no one could recall inviting, with his bizarrely humanoid and vaguely Egyptian style. “I mean, you won’t get a yes. He’s all possessive.”

“Truth,” said the Mi-go.

“Sure,” said Yaggdytha, still pretending (as they all did) that this “Black Pharaoh” Elder God (so he called himself) wasn’t unnerving. “But it’ll be the first offer of many, many, many. This is a big deal.”

“Truth,” admitted the Mi-go. 

Vorvadoss sighed. “Eventually, someone will offer enough that he’ll be willing to at least trade some fluids. It’s not like the human will miss them.”

“Truth,” said the Mi-go. “The human body equipped with testes produces approximately two to three hundred million spermatozoa a day. It won’t be missed.”

The “Black Pharaoh” cracked up rudely, and they all pretended he wasn’t there.

“Pity someone didn’t keep anything they got their tentacles on before,” Cthaeghya said snidely.

Pers sighed. “I said I’m sorry . How in fuck was I supposed to know he was some kind of superbreeder?”

“Truth,” said the Mi-go.

Yaggdytha rattled into the silence, a soothing sound. “I’ll send the first. We’ll just make it a regular request. I don’t feel the need for more proof.”

“Works for me,” said Vorvadoss, who always followed his twin sister’s lead.

“I am never going to live this down,” Pers muttered.

The “Black Pharaoh” cackled again (and no one looked his way), and then when nobody was looking, he disappeared.

Relief at his absence was more important than any concerns he might give the game away, and they all pretended he’d never been there at all.

#

Meanwhile, Larson proudly wore the bandage on his arm even though he could tell no one about its origin (and even though Dis had healed the wound).

We need it to lay a trap for the King’s enemy using the flesh of one rich in his power, she’d said, and why would she lie about that?

All these sacrifices were sure to pay out someday. He just had to wait.

They’d all see in time.

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 8.1

they’d settled, four to a bed, Avery, Verona, and Snowdrop sleeping while Lucy sat

aww

“I’m doing rounds, checking on every room of students who haven’t woken up already and started breakfast,” he told her.

responsible of him! Already doing better than the previous two (I think they just sent apprentices around)

"I reached out to Alexander this morning and couldn’t find him. I don’t know how concerned you are about him, but you should know that we’re keeping a close eye out and I don’t think you should have any immediate worries.”

right, Ray doesn't know what happened to Alexander... I assume he'll figure out he died eventually, could be awkward if he pieces together who. Though I guess none of the girls actually killed Alexander, even indirectly, that was all John's decision. One of the benefits of asking instead of summoning

She’d thought panic might grip her, or she might say or do something weird, or flinch, her expression giving something away. Her expression didn’t change at all from its default, slightly-pissed-off frown. She inhaled, then exhaled slowly.

Useful, but I'm not thrilled with what it says about Lucy's familiarity with danger and trauma

“So we have that Alexander thing happening, I guess,” Verona said

...oh. Did Lucy not tell them? That... doesn't feel like a good precedent for sharing important information, but I get not wanting to talk about it yet (or being worried they'd give it away). I'm hoping this isn't Lucy wanting to not burden the other two with guilt/trauma, because that would be a hell of a lot to carry herself

She’d tell them after.  It was calculating and awful but them having no idea made selling their non-involvement easier.

ok. Still not happy about it, but I'm glad she's going to tell them and that this is mainly for practical reasons (or at least that is her justification)

It felt like nothing fit.  That everything was at odds.  The sexy music warring with a mental image that was almost fighting to stay in Lucy’s mind’s eye.  The school so tidy when it had so recently been at war.  The playful banter between the others, when students kept giving them sidelong glances.

I am very glad that Lucy is already in therapy

If it weren’t for the music, then Lucy might have snapped at the silence, and that fact surprised her.

side effect of her implement? Making her more sensitive to silence/noises?

I’ll tell you right now, this is between you three, your opossum, and me.

i love this line

“Your reaction tells me I’m not mistaken,” Raymond told them. “There’s a discrepancy in paperwork and funding, with a short note from Alexander saying to contact him if there are any questions.

hmmm. Was the loophole tied to the school as a whole, or specifically Alexander? I went back and looked at 3.2, and it looks like that was something Alexander said specifically about his desmesnes and intentions to become headmaster.

“For the three of you, twenty-one thousand dollars a term.”

... ok. That's a lot of money. But a quick google was showing me that $7,000 per term per student is actually about as cheap as private high schools in Canada get, especially when you consider it's a boarding school. I suppose three terms (counting the summer) instead of two brings the cost up a bit, but honestly still seems like a good deal.

“Wrong answers could be cause for expulsion right here and right now." [...] “But given the severity of an attack of this potential style and scale, I wouldn’t rule out torture either."

wow that escalated fast!

"I’ve looked in, and the man is as good as dead.” “Not what I aimed for,” Verona said. “What did you aim for?” “To ruin his day.” “You have thoroughly done that.  Yesterday, today, and every day for a long time.”

starting to agree with Jessica that Verona is kinda scary

Verona glanced at Avery, then Lucy. Said a lot, that it was in that order. It wasn’t that Lucy was insecure, really. But Avery offered a different sort of backup to what Lucy did and if Verona was looking for that, then Verona wasn’t doing all that hot. It was hard to tell sometimes, but things like this were clues.

1) I love this kind of analysis 2) Lucy is doing my liveblog for me

"I know that what Lawrence would have built here would have overridden the position of the four Judges.”

huh. That ties back into Kennet I guess. Should be a good rationalization to the Kennet Others for why the girls needed to get involved. I wonder... was this someone's goal? To derail Bristow? That seems a bit too much to have planned out. But it's a big coincidence if so.

Mr. Bristow seems to have timed what he did to take advantage of the fact that the four judges are currently three.

... or it could be the other way around. Events in Kennet prompted Bristow's coup. Explains why he pursued it so aggressively: he has to have known that seat couldn't stay empty for long

"I’d love to have an adult we can go to that isn’t, like, Brie or Zed.” “What a thing to think about, imagining that Brie and Zed are adults,” Raymond said, wistful, shaking his head a little. He removed his glasses to rub at his eyes.

I'm with Raymond on this. How old are they anyways? Senior students don't have ages listed and I can't remember if it was mentioned or estimated elsewhere, but we know Nicolette is sixteen and Zed seems to be about the same age

“I believe you,” Raymond said.  “My concerns lie elsewhere.  Students described this Uncle Toad as very canny, and world-wise.  Your patrons seem to be evasive, hiding away from the world.  I don’t know what they’re plotting or doing, and my efforts to find out have been mostly stymied.”

On the one hand, I get why the Kennet Others are evasive, especially to practitioners. On the other, I agree with Raymond that there are wild red flags all over.

“I don’t think it’s that nefarious,” Avery said.  “Except for the murderers but we’re handling that.”

INCREDIBLY UNREASSURING

Is it at all possible that, even if you had no such intentions, you were led to come here to cause this kind of mayhem? Could that have been part of a scheme, plot, or plan, on the part of your patrons?”

same question I was asking a bit ago!

“A new headmaster will be installed in one to three weeks,” Raymond told them. “Either Maurice Crowe or Mr. Abraham Musser.

I'm voting for Maurice Crowe, on the basis that Luisa Crowe seemed more ethical than most practitioners in that flashback. Wonder if this is her brother or husband? I think a son would be too young.

“You have a bit of time. Not the whole summer, as you might have hoped, but some time,” Raymond told them.

well. I guess this is the answer for how to keep Verona from getting so wrapped up in the school that she doesn't go home :(

“Mend fences and build bridges."

networking time! Might be worthwhile to try and build on the connections with those they were allied with, but also to reach out to former opponents in a "no hard feelings" sort of way. Maybe start with Estrella, since they dealt with her before?

Also, maybe have Avery take point on this one.

“Yo,” he addressed the room in a deep voice.

vividly reminded of Helio from Dimension 20 Fantasy High

Her skin was the grey of storm clouds, she was bare chested, and her lips and nipples were silver.

wonder how Avery is dealing with this

“It’s easier than it once was.  To hear the older forces talk about it, it used to be lawless out there.  But you know how lawless things were, teacher.”

impressive that Durocher can call on gods for a lesson and casually question them

"If you have less awesome gods, they might give you something you didn’t ask for. Or they might get pissy,”

laid-back bro god is a very funny bit of characterization

Avery reached up, a bit shy, toward Lucy’s face.  Lucy crossed the last inch, pressing lip to fingertip.

... I'm not shipping any combinations within the Kennet Trio, but if I was

Yadira was injured, her wrist wrapped, and she was alone.  Kass was in the middle of the room.  Raquel had left when Musser had.  Nobody had walked over.  Yadira’s stance and expression might have scared off anyone willing.

good on Lucy for walking over. I wonder if this was an intent of the teachers? Have students volunteering to help each other. Though I imagine if Yadira had sat through watching everyone else get healed while she was alone, that would breed resentment

“You have no comprehension, do you?” Yadira asked, looking at Lucy.  She shook her head a bit. “Bristow?  The damage you three did?” Yadira asked.  Her expression changed three times, so fast Lucy could barely follow.  Bewilderment at Lucy’s reaction, then frustration, then anger.  “Get out of my fucking way.”

hmm. I'm starting to wonder if I have comprehension? Was it that their actions were too brutal, or too powerful, or targeted against too familiar a figure? Or I guess, for those who had sided with Bristow, this is a major blow to them and potentially to their families. So trying to push the past conflict aside might seem trivializing

They’d played games before, intimidating a bit, trying to look strong as a just-in-case.  They’d scared off the sorta-friendly types, like Yadira’s group.  Now they looked strong, and they had no friends.

:|