#midnight city au

[superblysubpar]

My dear. I had a dream where I was at a bar with friends and a very nondescript male friend was getting majorly territorial but trying to be nonchalant about it when someone was chatting me up super casually and my friends were all like 👀 uhhh!!! Helloooo!!! and...I'll spare you the details but it was giving MAJOR midnight city Steve so I immediately have inserted *that* picture into my brainwaves and now I'm ready to have a good day.

Thank you for your service and for listening.

💋

This is just a little blurb about midnight city!steve (modern!steve), you don't have to read Midnight City first for it to make sense, but can do so here. It was one of my first fics 💛

Steve fiddles with the cherry stem in his drink, jaw tense as he watches the bar.

"Jesus, who burnt your toast?"

Steve's brows furrow at the honey haired best friend sitting next to him who slurps something pink and sugary out of two lime green straws.

Robin’s blue eyes blink at him. She picks up one of the straws, she twirls it in his face, tone matter of fact. "It's a saying. People say that."

"No," Steve argues, his attention back on the bar, "They don't."

"Damn dude, who shit in your socks?" Eddie pokes at Steve's frown as he slides into the booth next to Robin.

Steve swats at the ring clad finger like a gnat as Robin snorts a laugh around her straws.

"I can't stand either of you."

Your head tilts back in a laugh. His jaw tenses.

Robin and Eddie let out a unison and drawn out, "Ohhhh."

"Aww Stevie's a little jealous. Cute." Eddie chuckles.

"So tall hunky model man shit in your socks and burnt your toast, huh?" Robin offers unhelpfully.

Tall hunky model man leans in and says something and you snort, hiding your face behind your hands as your body shakes with laughter.

The cherry stem snaps in half between Steve's fingers.

What the hell is so fucking funny?

"Steve, seriously," Robin begins, actually serious for once, "She's head over heels for you. You're being such a-"

Steve pushes out of the booth, and Robin speaks to the empty side, as Eddie gags on the brown liquid in his cup.

"Guy." She sighs.

"Fuck, this is disgusting. I hate whiskey. When will I learn." Eddie steals Robin's drink.

Meanwhile, you listen as Brody, a friend from college you've just ran into, tells you all about his daughters and the shenanigans they get into.

"But anyways, enough about my kids, Sarah says I need to re-learn normal conversation topics. What's new with you?"

You smile, patting his arm in assurance, "Please, I loved hearing about them. Nothing much I-"

Fingers scratch across your lower back and you turn, Steve stands next to you with a tense jaw.

"Hi," you smile, "There you are, this is-"

"Steve," his tone sharp, "The boyfriend."

He sticks his hand out politely, his manners not totally gone. Except the shake is a firm grip, dominating, before the hand finds its home on your lower back once more.

"Sorry, I've totally been monopolizing you, I gotta get back to my group too. It was so great seeing..." Brody goes in for the hug but falters when he sees the look on Steve's face, the way his fingers curl around your hip and pull you into his side. Brody does a sort of awkward wave instead and walks away.

"What the hell was that?" You laugh as Steve spins you to face him.

Your hands land on his chest as he swallows. Your eyes trace over the pout on his lips and the tense jaw dotted with stubble. The furrows forming between his brows.

Steve shrugs. "What are you talking about?"

"Steve," you mimic a man's voice, dropping yours to an amusing level, gruff, "The boyfriend."

Steve's lips twitch, but he shakes his head.

"I didn't-"

Your thumb swipes over his pout, fingers curling around his jaw so he'll look at you. Your warm smile melting him a little bit.

"Steve Harrington, were you a little jealous?"

His hands that had been fiddling with your belt loops slide around the curve of your waist, they drop to your ass, slipping into your back pockets and squeeze.

Your lip pulls between your teeth at the territorial grab. Your heart flutters in your chest as he hides his face in your neck, embarrassed and speaking softly against your skin. "I don't like how much he made you laugh."

His lips press a soft kiss to your throat, they linger, brushing over your skin as he speaks. "That's my laugh. My smile. My girl."

Your throat is dry at his words, thighs pressing together at the claim despite his ridiculous and unnecessary worry that you'd ever look at another man the same way as you do him.

Steve's breath is warm on the sensitive skin below your ear, driving a shiver up your spine when he presses a soft kiss there, waiting.

"Yours," you acknowledge as his tongue swipes over the spot, making your fingers curl in his shirt.

You've forgotten where you are, that you're not alone. And both of you freeze as a loud, unison call echoes across the fairly quiet bar.

"Get a room!"

[midnightcity-2]

Hi, I moved blogs! -ketamollykaine

I got locked out of my main blog, @ketamollykaine , so I made a new account and moved everything over here. I'm still working on this AU, don't worry! I hade to take a creative break, but I'm back and ready to start making more content. A new character will be introduced this week as well as more stories that reside within the Midnight City.

Thanks for sticking around! <3

[starry-bi-sky]

Part SEVEN of "Clone Danny"

Red Robin, Danny recognizes, steps away from him as he sits up. "My name is Phantom," he signs, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes. (From Red Robin's perspective, it looks like he has no eyes. There lacks his signature green glow.) "I'm not a gang member, just an out-of-town vigilante."

Red Robin frowns at him, an uncertain grip on the bō in his other hand. "Phantom?" He repeats, no lacking amount of suspicion in his voice. "How can I believe that?"

Right. Yeah, okay, that's fair. Danny shrugs at him, and slumps against the wall. "Google search?" He gestures, he's been out in the daytime before and he's seen the news articles about him.

Red's eyes narrow at him and Danny simply draws his knees up and faceplants into them, half-listening to Red's murmurs into his comm while also trying to get some extra-shut eye.

("Oracle, can you pull up anything on a vigilante named Phantom? The guy here is claiming to be one." Tim says.

"On it."

"Is this Phantom wearing a white mask?" Bruce asks, his voice gruff like an aftershock. "There's a vigilante who shares the same name, but he resides in Illinois."

"Is this guy from that Amity city you visited ages ago?" Says Tim, before shaking his head. "Don't answer that. Yes, he's wearing some freaky mask. I said it reminded me of Hood's helmet for a reason."

"I've got something," Oracle interrupts, "Bats' right. as usual. The Phantom of Amity Park, not much stuff of this guy but he's only been out for over a year. Apparently, his rogues' gallery consists of ghosts."

"Oh great.")

"Look tell the Batman that I'm sorry for trespassing on his turf," He signs irritably when Red Robin eventually starts talking to (re: interrogating) him again. "It's not like I want to be here."

"How did you get in Gotham anyways?" Red Robin questions, batman was on his way to help deal with the situation but Tim doubted he wouldn't get caught up on the way with dealing with petty crime. "Your turf is nearly a thousand miles away from here."

"Two words." Danny deadpans, "Teleport ghost." (Red Robin winces sympathetically.) "I'm keeping this bastard in the thermos for a month for this alone."

(Danny was ignoring the slow-choking anxiety growing in his lungs over how he was gonna get home. He never takes his phone when he goes out, the risk of breaking it was too high. He had no way of contacting anyone to get him home.)

(He swallows the growing lump in his throat, and buries the feeling in the back of his mind.)

"Thermos?"

Danny unclips his Fenton Phantom Thermos off from his belt loop and shows it to Red Robin. "My ghost-catching device," He says with one hand, tilting it carefully for Red to inspect. "I wish I could say I made it, but its a FentonWorks invention."

(He wasn't sure if it was a smart idea to say who it belonged to, but saying it wasn't his probably loosened up any tracks on him, right?)

"Do you work with these Fentons, then?" Red asks, and something dark and shadowy flickers from the corner of Danny's eye. He glances over, and sees nothing, and his hackles raise.

(Either that was Batman, or a ghost, or Danny's mind playing tricks on him. He couldn't feel his ghost sense building in his throat, so he decided it was either the latter of the former.)

Danny snorts, quiet and gruff. "No." He clips his thermos to his belt again, stifling a smile on his face. "The Fentons hate me actually, I prevent them from catching ghosts themselves. Their son gives me their tech."

He had a cover story, so he might as well stick with it, right?

Batman shows up at that moment, appearing atop the little roof where the door is, and giving Danny a heart attack when he speaks in his low, rumbly voice like thunder rolling in, "Why would they hate you for that?"

Danny shoots up to his feet with a startled yell in his throat, clutching his chest as he whirls around and looks up. He nearly runs into Red Robin, and signs a few choice swears at the Bat.

"wow you're scarier in person, asshole."

"you didn't answer my question."

"Of course I didn't, you scared me." and Danny takes a trembling step back when the Batman jumps down and lands on the roof in front of him. He's faced ghosts before, but somehow the living is always scarier.

"But, um, the reason is a bit.. complicated, I guess." He says, fingers beginning to shake as his adrenaline wears off. God is he tired. He wants to go home. "The Fentons are the local ghost hunters and local crazies. I don't know if I can call them mad scientists because they're harmless to the living."

"But they're extremely anti-ghost. I've heard from their son multiple times the very unethical things they would do to ghosts if they got their hands on one."

Danny 'talks' a little more before calling it quits, even telling Batman that he can't tell him more without putting his identity at risk.

Plus, its getting harder and harder to hide his bone-deep exhaustion and his growing fear of being stranded in the most dangerous city in America with no way home.

"I would love to tell you more, believe me I'm dying to." Danny signs, shaky sarcasm dripping from his fingers. His hands are visibly trembling and he's withholding a slowly growing panic attack. "But I would like nothing more than to figure out a way to get home."

"Do you have no one to contact?"

"Sort of. But only one of them could probably come get me and get me back to Amity by sunrise. And I have no phone."

That one person being Ellie.

=====

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

Taglist: @the-navistar-carol @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour @luckybyrdrobyn @deeplyconfusedbear @epilepticnerd @beautifulmomenttodrawblank @sara0055 @blusunkhild @letmesayfuxk (?) @latheevening226 @tkiesai @rosedasy @meira-3919

[omgwhatchloe]

when i see other peoples rdr2 modern aus like working at mcdonald’s and thanksgiving and trick or treating and old fishing photographs…i realise my modern au vision of getaway drivers, night clubs, helicopters, bank robberys, explosions, heists, secret hideouts, flashy cars, prison breakouts, alcohol shots and other stuff must’ve gone really wrong somewhere…

[phoenixmetaphor]

Oct 5 - RE:tober - weaponless

[phonification]

freaks of nature fight over a blueberry muffin

[you-hate-time-travel]

Great news everyone ive put gravy in the torment nexus

[jeandejard3n]

The Gothic Knight

[ketamollykaine]

Midnight City: Dove

Tonight(demo) - Amira Elfeky

Don’t be afraid to lose. Don’t worry if it doesn’t turn out exactly how you want. The truth is you won’t ever know what’s coming until it arrives. 

The everpresent fog that surrounded the small lake town dusted over the small mountain behind the shore. A long, straight road ran adjacent to the water between a narrow line of houses and trees. The houses that sat among the mountain lit up the fog, otherwise they weren’t present in the gloomy world. Some days one couldn’t tell the water from the shore. Everything about the town was old and stagnant, never changing. The red shack on the water’s edge has always been a bar, the liquor store across the street has always been covered in moss, the houses never seemed to evolve with the people coming in and out. Eventually all newcomers had left, leaving the original townspeople to their isolated lives. Sometimes those who’d moved away from the fog would return.

Dove let out a shaky sigh as she packed the last of her things into her grandmother’s van. She, her boyfriend, brother, and grandmother stood outside in the parking lot of the apartment Dove was now leaving. She grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and brought him back into the building for a final moment of privacy, she knew she wouldn’t be seeing him again. 

  “I’m going to miss you, Sean.” Dove quietly whimpered into his chest. Sean held her close, rubbing her back. 

  “This isn’t forever, we can still see each other and move in together again one day, but you need to get better. We both need to get better.” Sean reasoned. 

The couple had seen much better days to say the least. The last few months dealt several blows of trauma to both of them. Dove suffered two miscarriages within a few months and fell into a deep depression and spiraled into addiction. Sean, being a former addict himself, went down the same spiral as Dove when she started to use cocaine and alcohol. She became a heartless, pitiful mess. She lashed out angrily at everything that brought reality back to her, often spewing her poison at the one she loved the most. Sean always tried his best, but his addiction to crack and fentanyl left him a paranoid shell of who he once was. Their codependency ruined them.

On the drive back to her family’s home, Dove mourned the life she was leaving behind but was beginning to feel a small flame of hope for a better future. The highway surrounding them came to an intersection. Going straight led to a small city, and to the right was the road that ran along the lake. Even on a sunny day outside of the trees, the deeper into the town one went, the foggier it got. Dove sank into the comfort of the familiar fog. She could get lost in it, nobody would find her. She’s always had dreams of disappearing, maybe soon she’d actually do it. Soon the family arrived home and began to unpack.

Dove went up to her room, nothing had changed. All of the posters and paintings on the wall were still hung up, the bed was in the same place, and a few boxes of things she left behind were still in the corner. She didn’t bring much with her when she moved in with her boyfriend, so unpacking would be easy. The totes of clothes could be put back under the bed, her keyboard could stay downstairs, guitar goes in the corner of the room, and the wicker shelves would be set up exactly how she had them in the apartment. Her grimoires took up the 2nd to top shelf. Herbs, candles, crystals, among other supplies went on top. The middle shelf remained an altar. The second lowest shelf held books, sketchbooks and notebooks, and the bottom shelf held a bag of shoes and a basket of shells. The sea and water always brought her back to center.

Dove spent the next few months recuperating from addiction. She slept well, ate well, spent time outside, and was becoming happier. She could stand to go to work without a drop of alcohol in her system, but not without a little something to smoke. Going without weed was like a war crime to her; a complete violation of her personal Geneva Convention. At least she wasn’t hopped up on cocaine and starving while dancing half naked. She danced better when she was with Mary Jane anyways. After quitting hard drugs, Dove left a lot of relationships as well, leaving her in a lonely place. Getting better does come with a cost, but it didn’t cost her friendship with Laurissa. Laurissa would be there no matter what, despite her own addiction. The two were inseparable, they were seen everywhere together, often slept in the same bed, and wore each other’s clothes. 

Eventually the new year came around. Dove hadn’t seen or heard from Sean since early December, but Laurissa was there. Until she wasn’t. In mid January, Laurissa was found dead in her apartment. Dove called and texted her like nothing had happened, but when she didn’t get any response by the end of the day, she grew worried and called again. This time the phone picked up with Laurissa’s mother on the line.

“Laurissa passed away this morning, I’m sorry,” She said. Dove dropped her phone and fell to her knees in the bathroom at work. Everything was gone. She sobbed alone in the stall until another dancer came in. Hearing Dove’s sobs, she whisked her away, downstairs to the locker room. Each dancer in the locker room slowly turned around, surprised to see the usually cheerful woman so broken down. They asked what was wrong, and she choked out that her best friend was dead. The women knew immediately and solemnly went back to getting ready. 

On the way home, Dove silently cried in the back of the taxi, listening to the music she’d listen to with Laurissa. She got out at the package store, bought a bottle of vodka and walked the rest of the way home. Stumbling up the back steps, she began to cry. It was late, so she didn’t have to worry about her family seeing her relapse. An overwhelming feeling of emptiness enveloped her, and back in the abyss she went.

There was this ritual that she had been wanting to try, but due to the danger involved, she never started it. She was too scared to lose her loves. Now, with nothing to lose, Dove was free to try to make it into Midnight City. Luckily for her, the next morning happened to be Saturday with a new moon on the horizon.

Dove stumbled into her room and dug under her bed for the box she put together when she initially planned on going through with the ritual. It had all the herbs, woods, resins, minerals, the mercury, chalice and cauldron, candles, sigils, athame, black clothes, and the veil. She smiled at it with tears in her eyes and put it on her night stand, then got ready for bed.

The next morning, Dove acted normal, she didn't tell anyone what happened the night before. It's best if they don't know anything is wrong, they'd pester her to talk and then lecture her on how she can't let this horrible event make her relapse. She went downstairs to grab a protein shake to drink while doing her morning stretches. The sunrise was surprisingly colourful for the fog that covered most of the sky. The form of suicide yet to come soothed every bit of sadness, anger, and fear out of Dove. Every movement she made was serene. Freedom was on the horizon.

She passed the day in her room, talking with her chosen ancestors through her tarot cards. She felt her heart for what it wanted, racked her brain for what it wanted, and searched her soul for what it wanted. Her answer: "I don't want to be lonely anymore".

The sun began to set as Dove finished eating dinner with her family. She put her dishes in the sink and said goodnight to everyone. This would be the very last time they'd see her. For her shower, she figured she'd go as fresh as possible. She gathered a fresh razor, baby oil, lotion, a facial set, her regular skin care, a dry brush, a sugar scrub, shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. She left the shower without a hair out of place and perfect skin. By the time she was finished, her platinum hair dried in waves and she smelled of vanilla. She braided her hair and put on simple makeup before returning to her room to put on her ritual clothing.

Opening the box, Dove picked out and put on the black underwear, socks, and bra, then the cropped t shirt, leggings, cargo pants, a grommet belt, a hoodie, and denim jacket. She looked in the mirror while placing the veil on, she draped it over her head like a pashmina, familiar with the rave style. It was almost time to start the ritual.

At 11:36 Dove walked down the road to the crossroads and began to set the space. She drew the circle, a line halfway through, a door above the line, and 12 notches encompassing her. She set the sigils down and the candles above them, blessing the candles in the name of the spirits they've been set for. Once every candle was lit, the temperature dropped but there was no wind, the spirits have begun to pay attention.

Dove, knowing the risks of inter dimensional ritual work set protections for years leading up to this moment, but felt as some wards shattered and circles of white light went out. Darkness is the only way Midnight City can be reached. Many creatures mingle in the chaos.

She walked the circle 12 times and sat in the center before the small cauldron. In the box laid pouches with each ingredient labelled and numbered. First, she poured the alcohol into the chalice as libation for the spirits, and then she took a generous sip for herself. Pouch number one, acacia wood and matches. Dove put the wood in the cauldron, lit a few matches and set the wood on fire, she added the fluffier dried herbs, hyssop and Dittany of Crete. She then built the fire with black walnut, and added bat's head root. Dove shuddered while looking at the next item, the athame. She'd have to cut herself and get a good amount of blood to put on the Jezebel Root.

Dove took a breath, grabbed the athame and pulled down her sleeve. She turned her arm and pushed the tip of the blade under the side of her wrist and dragged it down an inch. She gasped in pain, dropped the blade and grabbed the Jezebel Root, smearing her blood on as her signature. Into the fire went her life force, and then Job's Tears, and finally Balm of Gilead Tears. The fire smelled sweet and of incense. It burned out quickly, and into the cauldron went graveyard dirt, diatomite, and road opening oil. Dove smoothed the mix of ashes, resin, dirt, rocks, and oil into a flat plane for the mercury to sit on.

The candles around her began to flicker, some flame grew, others dimmed but never went out. Dove's focus had to remain on the surface of the mercury. Staring into the liquid mirror, she chanted, "Bathin, lead me to the city. Seere, see me to my wishes, mark me abundant. Bifrons, mark me intelligent in your realms. Murmur, bring to me the souls I wish to see. Malphas, act on behalf of my pains. Gremory, speak to me of the past and beyond."

The demons watched from the shadows, her ancestors watched from behind her. The trance took over and onto the door Dove walked. In a blink she was gone forever from that reality. Now her soul was in custody of Midnight City. She smiled awakening on the other side and began to walk confidently. Dove could feel the presence of her ancestors, she picked her strongest and savviest, they could make it just the same as her. The creatures in the city lurked, trying to find the new spirits; they were hungry.

Some familiar spirits didn't have as much fortitude as Dove thought and began to put off an odor of fear. The other stronger ones quelled the fears of the meek to ward off the monsters. The walk was still easy, but an ancestor who was a remarkable psychic pointed out the sticks in the path and how to avoid them. Some fears were covered up by the confidence of others, but the sticks were hardwired to try to set off a trap. Minutes became an hour, an hour became two, two became 3, and 3 became countless hours. The group of spirits trudged on, Dove became tired and weary. So close to the finish line she was, but that's where the darkest of monsters crept. For the deities, this sacrifice was an entertaining game to watch.

The six spirits could see Dove approaching, overjoyed at her successful pilgrimage, but one demon had a trick up his sleeve. Malphas whisked away from the group, leaving a shell in his place. He whispered to a lost soul to walk forward and grab the first spirit they find.

Just as Dove saw the light approaching, a lost soul ran forward and grabbed the ancestor of her great great grandmother, known for being hard to break. She screamed and the game was over. Dove ran to the light and left the ancestors behind in the beginning feeding frenzy of monsters and lost souls. She ran into a light that was running from her and suddenly she fell. Down, down, down she fell, screaming the whole way down. She landed on the hard ground. The minutes of falling suddenly felt like none, and that she had just fallen face forward onto the ground.

Alone again. Dove was all alone again. She fell to her knees and sobbed, not caring if any monster was coming to rip her to shreds. Nothing came, but she wasn't alone. Seere watched from above and flew down to her side, bringing with him a candle.

"Poor thing," he whispered, grabbing her shoulder. "I thought you'd make it. You've been lonely your whole life. Every bit of stability has been ripped away from you. Nothing you did seemed to be right, and for that you paid consequences you didn't deserve. You've been abused and trespassed on. You've met failure too many times, but you're not meant to kiss Death yet." Dove kept her eyes on the ground, quiet tears dripping into the dirt. She saw hooves and the silhouette of wings behind the candle light.

"You've suffered too much, I'd like to make a deal. You're lonely and have been searching your whole life for a loyal community, and so have we in this realm. You will gain your people and partial freedom from this realm in exchange for returning to the dark city when called. You are now a creature that lurks in this night, but when you wake you will be surrounded by your new family." Seere looked down to Dove's motionless, expressionless body before waking her up and disappearing.

[vigilantejustice]

hello. in today’s unhinged news my brother surprised me by paying me back the (very hefty) chunk of change he’s owed me forever and now i’m flying to melb with a stranger from discord to camp out for paramore’s last show in two days 🤯🤡

[dandelion-wings]

Aaaand I was not going to write Jean's re-summoning of Kaeya today, but @prplzorua asked a question about the last ficlet, and then D&D was going slow, and... welp. This is kind of the piece that I'd turn into the start/first chapter of a longfic if @theabysscomeshome and I were going to longfic this, leading through the beginning of their partnership and eventually to the place in their relationship where the rom-com bits can happen, but I don't exactly need new longfics and it would need an A-plot, anyway. XD

---

Jean kneels down on the floor, Barbara's notes in one hand, chalk in the other, to begin drawing her summoning circle.

It's not the complex, elaborate sort of thing she's seen described in her novels or diagrammed in old text, double-walled, the space between those walls layered over and over again with bindings. Barbara has simplified it down to something much slimmer, simpler, simply the summoning itself and the bindings required to let it gain a foothold in this world and create an anchor. Let *him* gain a foothold, because Jean is summoning a very specific spirit.

She's grateful she'd been able to beg Diluc for his father's books, and more grateful still that he'd presumed she'd wanted them for Barbara. Who has indeed put them to good use in her long, slow project of unwinding the most vicious bindings from Rosaria's soul. But she's also put them to good use for this, too. Kaeya was as much Jean's friend as Diluc's. Diluc had said that never wanted to be here. But Rosaria has told them how grim and deadly the Abyss can be, and clings to life here despite the painful bindings that Barbara is only slowly freeing her from. Jean wants to at least give him that choice.

It's unfair of her to be angry when Diluc was only trying to set him free. Maybe she wouldn't be if Diluc was still here. But it was cruel of him to rip both of her friends away, without giving her a chance to say goodbye to either.

All of her furniture is cleared away to the walls, her rugs pulled up from the floor, but Jean still has a tightly confined space in which to draw her circle. She does so carefully, pausing to correct every error, making sure each stroke is perfect to the final drawing in Barbara's notes. Her sister has spent two years now on her project of bringing Rosaria somewhere closer to free, peeling away the bindings etched into her anchor without destroying the anchor itself. She knows so much that Jean couldn't begin to understand. Jean can't risk ruining this because she wasn't careful enough in copying Barbara's painstaking work.

Finally, though, it's finished. Jean stands, stepping carefully out of the circle so as not to smudge the chalk, and stands in the gap between her bed and her vanity while she shuffles through Barbara's notes for the next part. She can't get this wrong, either. She's been waiting weeks for her mother to stay later at the Ordo than she does. There's no concealing this once she's home. The summoning has to be finished, and Kaeya, if he chooses to stay, presented as a fait accompli. If she fails and exposes her plans too early, Jean knows she won't be allowed to try again.

Jean understands why. She's always understood why. Her mother has explained, first in response to her questions when she was young and reading history, later when Diluc's right eye had gone star-pupiled and blue, just how dangerous Abyssal spirits are, and why the Gunnhildrs no longer summon them. Merely to allow them into the world is dangerous, unsettling the natural balance of the elements; if their bindings ever slip, they become an even greater threat. No Aybssal spirit, her mother said, is *safe*.

Her mother has never liked that she and Diluc used Kaeya's name, or that Diluc allowed her to talk to him. She's never been willing to get to know Kaeya as a person. She wouldn't possibly believe that he isn't a threat to Mondstadt.

Taking a deep breath, Jean begins to recite the words Barbara has written out for her. "Oh spirit of the Abyss, Kaeya, Pavo Ocellus, heed my call...."

All Abyssal spirits have constellations, just as humans do. They can be summoned without them, but such a summoning simply draws in whichever is nearest, and weak enough to be drawn. Barbara says that Master Crepus' notes suggest that's what he'd done to get Kaeya in the first place. Once he had him, then he could learn that constellation, the core of his nature, which allows additional bindings to be placed and a direct summoning to be done. 'Kaeya' isn't the important part here; it's 'Pavo Ocellus' that matters.

But he's still 'Kaeya' to her, and always has been. It seems wrong to try and call for him without using his name.

She continues on, the ritual formula of the summoning, her voice rising and falling according to the musical notation that Barbara had added to it--much more accessible than the specialized and obscure notation used in most of the books. As she chants, shadows seem to gather at the center of the circle. Dim and flickering at first, but rising higher, spreading out in tendrils that seem almost to have eyes at the ends. Nothing more than the merest suggestion of a four-pointed star within a circle, but she feels intensely watched nonetheless. They fan out exactly like a peacock's tail. 'Pavo Ocellus' indeed.

The last lines fall from her lips, and then he's there, that gathering of shadow, watching her through those suggestions of eyes. The room is freezing cold.

"Kaeya," she says again, more softly, holding out her hand in supplication. "Diluc told me what you've suffered. You were bound more terribly than we understood, and more than we may still understand. I don't know if your bindings were like Rosaria's and painful of their own right, or if it was only the lack of freedom that pained you, but I should have realized long ago what a wrong that was on its own. You deserved that privilege of Mondstadt just as much as Diluc and I do. If you would like to return, if the Abyss is as unpleasant as Rosaria says, then I offer you that. I will put no bindings on you but those that tie you to me, that you may have a physical home among us, and I will force nothing upon you against your own will. If you wish to stay. If you do not, then I... I am glad I had the chance to say goodbye."

Her voice cracks, there, and Jean swallows. Then she steps forward, careful of the chalk on the floor, one foot into the circle, hand still held out.

As she does the peacock's tail flares suddenly up into something huge and hulking, bowing low like it's going to consume her. Like an Abyssal spirit *can*, when she's deliberately made herself vulnerable, with no protection but the circle and that border voluntarily crossed. That great mass of shadow gathers itself and dives down towards her. For a moment Jean's breath catches as all of her mother's warnings rise to the front of her mind.

Then it constricts together into a small, dark point just above her palm, and flashes, and a familiar earring, blue diamond-shaped stone set into what looks like white gold, falls into her hand. Jean breathes out.

:Hahaha, don't tell me you were nervous.:

She's heard Kaeya's voice before--or so she thought. It had always been from Diluc's mouth, though, in Diluc's register, though the tone and cadence had differed enough that Jean had always known which of them spoke. In her head, his voice is entirely different, breathy and soft, with a lilt to it that she can tell immediately was part of how Diluc's voice differed when he used it, but is weighted here in a way he'd never managed from Diluc's throat.

Jean lets go the breath she'd been holding, shakes off that disorientation, and smiles a little as she reaches up to pin the earring to her ear. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

As the earring clips in place, seeming to move with her fingers, almost on its own, to secure itself, she turns to look at herself in her vanity. She can see her right eye shimmer, for a moment going dark blue-black, studded with little points of light, before fading back into blue. Not *her* blue, though. This is a shade or two darker, further from violet, closer to grey. And of course, there's the diamond-shaped pupil in the center.

She blinks once, expecting some kind of sensation in that eye that she doesn't feel at all--no irritation, no strangeness, no sign at all that it suddenly belongs to another. Except that as her eyes open again, she can feel something like a weight settling into her mind, the bond taking root, and with it-

Her hand drops to her sword without her own will behind it. Kaeya draws it, and fear pulses cold in Jean's breast again, though all he does is flourish it and end with it held high. He looks it up and down, she can feel his eye moving, though hers is still fixed in horror and amazement on the mirror showing her--their--face.

"It should be interesting to work with a sword," he says, and she's not sure whether to be comforted by whether his voice shakes as he says it, as if he's not quite sure yet how to make the intonations he's familiar with come out right on her tongue. "I've always thought the sword was more stylish than the claymore."

Jean tries to sheathe the sword, to step back from the vanity, to speak herself. Her body refuses to obey her.

Kaeya chuckles aloud, this time, but his words are silent. :You shouldn't have doubted me, huh?:

She tries to form her thoughts into words in the same way, leaning on her urge to speak. Diluc had done it; surely she can, too. :Kaeya, what are you doing?:

:Oh, I'm just exercising that freedom you promised me. A privilege of Mondstadt, you called it?:

For all the amused confidence he's trying to project, there's something wavering in his answer, some hidden uncertainty in the way her heart has started to flutter too fast in her chest. That's not just her anxiety, she's sure of it. Does he even know what to do with her body, having taken full control of it? Diluc had never allowed him more than his voice. There had been the one time he'd fallen unconscious in battle, and Kaeya had risen in his body and walked him to the medics, but Jean remembers that stumbling progress and wonders now if it had been from injuries or from Kaeya's own inexperience.

"Jean!" Her mother's voice rings in the hall, thunderous. A chill runs down Jean's spine. Her mother and the Grand Master had been meeting with the Seneschal, and he knows what study Barbara has been making on Jean's behalf. Jean hadn't dared ask him not to tell her mother, for that was the surest way to make him go to her immediately. Better that he'd believed she'd had permission.

She'd only had this one attempt, and she had pulled it off successfully. Her mother's fury is manageable in the fact of that success.

:Let me talk to her,: she tells Kaeya. :She'll know what's happened, and it will only make her angrier if I don't. Whatever punishment she may have for this, there's no reason for you to bear it.:

Kaeya doesn't answer. He simply turns, her blade still upheld. As the door slams open, he drags one foot through the edge of the chalk circle and takes up a combat stance. Jean can feel the alien smirk twisting her face.

"*You*," Jean's mother breathes, her own face twisting in anger as she stands in the doorway and looks Jean in the eyes. "Crepus' little monster. Get out of my daughter's body!"

He laughs aloud. It's so clearly *his* laughter, eerie coming from her throat.

"Why should I, after she was so foolish as to let me in?"

:Kaeya, don't antagonize her. She's already angry enough.:

:So I see,: he says, laughing inside her mind, too. :But if she intends to punish us, why make it easier on her?:

"Because if you don't, I'll evict you by force," Jean's mother says. She reaches down to draw her own sword.

"There's only one way for you to do that without a spirit of your own, and you know it." Kaeya raises Jean's eyebrow, which is a skin-crawling sensation, even worse than the smirk. "How about this? I keep her body, which she handed over willingly in the first place, and you let me walk away knowing she's still alive."

Jean's heart is pounding in her chest, the uncertain flutter turning to a fearful hammering against her ribs. She knows what her mother's answer will be. It's the only answer that a Gunnhildr could possibly give.

"She didn't know what she was offering. She's let her sister's idealism and Diluc's idiocy blind her to what you really are. But *I* know better. And I will not let her unleash you upon Mondstadt."

:Kaeya, stop. She will attack if she thinks that's the only way. You have to let me talk to her!:

He doesn't answer. Jean can feel the fear spreading through her, chill and cold. Kaeya has always been her friend; surely he wouldn't do this to her. He was playing a game, teasing, because he always has liked teasing, but it's gone far enough. He knows that, doesn't he?

"Is that so? You'd rather kill your daughter to banish me than let me go to keep her alive?"

"I will do what I must," Jean's mother says, her voice wooden, her face going hard, her fury and anguish still showing only in her eyes, and lunges.

Kaeya *laughs*. Laughs and raises Jean's blade and leaps into the fray, ice starting to swirl around him as he and Jean's mother exchange blows.

At first Jean's mother is a little uncertain, cautious, holding back, watching Kaeya with a wary gaze as she parries and side-steps and uses the Gunnhildr wind magic to turn his blade aside. But as she catches on to the rhythm of his movements, the unfamiliar sword-style and the ice he wields alongside it, she grows more bold. Soon they're engaged in deadly earnest, swords clashing, wind and ice alike tearing Jean's bedroom apart.

:Stop!: she screams at Kaeya, over and over, seeming to go unheard. He never says anything in answer, silently or aloud, only laughs all the more in her voice, seeming caught up in the exhilaration of the fight. :Kaeya! I trusted you!:

He doesn't even waste the time to mock her for that. He simply fights on, magic and his unusual, unexpected style helping him counter Jean's mother's greater experience. The moment that experience starts to show, though, Jean feels a sudden wrench, and then there's wind on *both* sides of the fight. He's taken her own magic and turned it to the fray. The chill in Jean's breast grows deeper. He'd never been able to do that with Diluc. It's something the bindings had prevented. What has she *done*?

That's enough to turn the tide. Kaeya manages to put her mother off-balance, wind shrieking around her, ice flying at her, the two together throwing her back enough for Kaeya to finish the job with a quick slash of Jean's sword. Then her mother is on the ground in the doorway, looking up at them, blood running from her chest, pain blazing on her face, fighting for breath as Jean's stolen magic outstrips her own.

"You should have let me walk away," Kaeya says, chuckling, raising Jean's blade high for a final stroke.

:No!: Jean shrieks with all the fury she possesses, trying uselessly to batter herself against him like it will actually do anything. :You can't do this! I will never forgive you,: she adds, fiercely, because even if her protests are useless, he has to hear them. She will scream at him every moment he's in her body until both of them perish.

He falters, then, blade pausing in the downstroke. :But-:

The moment of hesitation is enough. Jean's mother slams out with both feet and her magic, knocking Jean's body onto her own back and surging upright in the same motion to stand over them. The tip of her sword settles at Jean's throat, pressing a little, just enough to break the skin. Jean looks up at her and feels the cold terror settle into an almost peaceful chill. Her mother was right after all. She just wishes she could say she's sorry.

"You win," Kaeya says, with her voice, and her face twists with his smirk again. "For what it's worth. Now all three of us know what kind of mother you are."

There's a feeling almost like an electric shock, a jolt all through her, and suddenly, Jean is in control. Her hand curls tighter, instinctively, around the hilt of her blade. Then she drops it, swallows hard, feeling the cold steel of her mother's blade cut deeper as her throat bobs, and finds her tongue enough to whisper, "Mother?"

"Jean." Her mother's eyes go wide. Carefully, slowly, she raises the blade and takes a step back. "Leave your sword on the floor, sit up, and take the earring off."

Jean leaves her sword lying there and sits up, starting to reach for the earring. Then she pauses, hand on the metal. Her heart is still pounding and her mouth is still dry, and she's shaking like a leaf. All of that could still be her own reaction. But the cold all around her, all through her--she's never had that particular reaction to fear. Some clamminess, but not this chill that seems to bore into her very bones, so deep it's part of her, something that wants to shrink defensively away-

She'd been cold all through the fight. No, thinking back, *before* the fight. When they'd first heard her mother's voice in the hall. While Jean had been trying and failing to take her body back.

:It wasn't that you weren't giving me back control, was it? You couldn't. You didn't know how.:

:Or,: Kaeya says, something brittle underlying his voice that resonates perfectly with that shivering chill, :I overestimated how well I'd recovered from my banishment.:

Which gives Jean a whole new sheaf of questions that she can't think about right now. :Would it help if we did add some bindings? Just enough to help-:

:If you're going to do *that*, why don't you simply banish me all over again?: There's a bitterness in his words so deep Jean can almost feel it choking her. :It wouldn't hurt any less.:

"No," Jean says aloud, dropping her hand from the earring. "I promised you freedom. The guiding principle of Mondstadt," she adds, raising her gaze to glare at her mother. "I refuse to betray that promise."

"You're falling into the same trap Diluc did," her mother says, fury rasping in her voice. "That's an Abyssal spirit. A *monster*. It nearly killed me. What will it do to the rest of Mondstadt?"

Jean rises, slowly, to her feet. She leaves her sword where it is; she can give her mother that much grace. But Kaeya's parting words, that sword at her throat, the slow drip of blood down her neck, all weigh upon her.

So does an older memory. Diluc, knocked to the ground, rising up in a burst of ice beyond anything he'd drawn from Kaeya thus far at the time of that fight. How he'd stumbled towards the medics through a ring of ice that threw back everything that came close, allies or enemies alike. Because Kaeya wasn't risking any kind of threat or impediment in his efforts to keep Diluc alive.

"He nearly killed you," she says in agreement, still meeting her mother's eyes. "But you threatened to kill me first."

Her mother goes white. Jean limps past her while she's still standing stunned in the doorway. She already regrets her words. She knows what her mother's intentions were, and where her convictions came from. Perhaps her mother is even right about what she's done. She'll find out, sooner or later. If she dies of this, though, at least she'll know she'd given Kaeya the benefit of the doubt.

[rainintheevening]

40 - “I made this for you.” - Anakin and Obi-Wan? (or Anakin and pretty much anyone; this is such an Anakin line)

Thank you, you lovely Anon, these boys are my bread and butter. For this one I'm going with the small town modern AU, otherwise known as the Galaxy City, KS AU. The only thing you really need to know is that Anakin and Obi-Wan are adoptive brothers. Anakin is like 15, so Obi-Wan is 30.

From 100 ways to say ILY

40. "I made this for you."

Anakin chewed on his bottom lip, kicking his feet against the rung of his chair.

The square root of 270 to the fourth decimal...

He tapped his pencil against the table top, softly at first, but louder as the sound caught his attention.

"Can you stop?" Obi-Wan asked shortly, not looking up from his text book.

Anakin stopped.

He stared again at his own school workbook. The square root of 270...

The square root of 270...

The square root...

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan glared across the table at him, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Oh, he'd started tapping his pencil again.

"Sorry!" he blurted, then sat dumbly, staring at a paper he couldn't even see anymore.

He heard his big brother blow out a short breath, then a longer one, followed by the bristling noise of him rubbing his beard.

"Are you stuck on something, Ani?" Obi-Wan’s voice was gentler. "Do you want help?"

Anakin shook his head wordlessly, now twisting the pencil between his fingers. He could feel Obi-Wan watching him, his gaze like a heat ray on Anakin’s head.

"What’s up, kid?" Obi-Wan sounded serious now. "Is something wrong? Do you want to talk about something?"

Anakin jerked his head in a nod, even as his fingers caught and bent, and the pencil snapped between them. The ends clattered to the table, and Anakin stared at them, horror-stricken.

Breaking things, he kept on breaking things, and it was always costing them, costing Obi-Wan who already did everything to keep food on the table, and pay all the bills, and he'd said just last week that the last of Dad and Mom's insurance money was gone, they were on their own now, and Anakin wasn't helping, wasn't– He just wanted to– Obi-Wan deserved–

He choked on the sob that tried to break out, and bolted from his chair.

"Wait, Ani-!" Obi-Wan called after him, but he kept going. Up the stairs, down the hall, into his room, where he ran to his bed and dove under the blankets.

Anakin pulled Mom's quilt over his head, buried his face in his pillow, and tried not to cry. He failed.

A soft knock on an open door, which he almost missed, except it was accompanied by Obi-Wan’s voice, a quiet, "Ani?"

Anakin didn't have words to reply, though a strangled noise escaped him.

Obi-Wan said nothing more, but the mattress sagged under someone's weight, and then the quilt lifted enough to let Obi-Wan squirm under it to lie next to him.

Obi-Wan smelled like onions from making supper, and Anakin cried harder. He kept his face buried in his pillow, but Obi-Wan just kissed the back of his neck, beard tickling Anakin’s skin, and settled down, cheek pressed to the side of his little brother's head.

Anakin wasn't totally sure why he was crying, he just knew that he loved his brother so much, and he wished Dad and Mom were still alive, but he was happy again somehow—he had realised that yesterday when they drove home from hockey practice, and he'd sung along with the Hunter Brothers on the radio. He was happy; even though that felt wrong somehow, he'd been told it wasn't.

And now he was crying.

When the tears stopped, he turned his head away from the pillow to take some deep breaths, and found Obi-Wan’s face right there, so close their breaths mingled in the same warm smell of spaghetti sauce. Obi-Wan grinned slightly in the darkness, bumped their noses together.

"Okay," he said softly, "do you want ice cream or hot chocolate?"

Anakin took a couple shuddery breaths, before sitting up and throwing off the quilt. Obi-Wan sat up too, swinging his feet back onto the floor.

"Um," Anakin croaked, rubbing his hands over his face to dry it. "I have something." He hopped off the bed, went to his dresser and opened the sock drawer. "At school today." He turned around, held out the plastic case. "I made this for you."

Obi-Wan cocked his head, reached for glasses that weren't there, and so took the gift, holding it close enough to read.

"You Are My Sunshine," he read aloud, from the permanent marker on the top of the CD. "Wait, you made this?" He looked up at Anakin with a sudden smile. "Is this your singing?"

Anakin nodded, biting his lip.

"Ani." Obi-Wan sounded so proud. "Your first record. Look at you, little brother."

"I made it for you," Anakin repeated, not knowing how else to say everything he was feeling.

"Well, then we should listen to it." Obi-Wan jumped up, reached to ruffle Anakin’s hair, then pulled Aankin into his side. "Homework break?"

"And ice cream?"

A grin in response. "Absolutely!"

Anakin got the chocolate ice cream and two spoons, while Obi-Wan put the CD in the player in the living room. They ended up on the couch together, Obi-Wan’s arm around him keeping Anakin’s nervous energy under control.

The audio started with voices, laughter, Dad saying, "Never, my love."

Mom giggling close to the microphone.

The background hum of a car ride.

Obi-Wan's younger voice: "Stop pinching me, Ani."

Anakin sounded so young, and very indignant. "I'm not!"

Against his shoulder, Anakin felt Obi-Wan take a deep breath, and exhale, sinking further back into the couch. He didn't have to look over to know the man's eyes were closed.

Anakin had listened to this so many times in the past two years, since he discovered it on Mom's old phone, trying to figure out what to do with it, he had every word memorized.

Little Anakin again: "Daad, 'm tired. How much longer?"

Dad's voice, so warm and strong it was like he was right there in the room with them: "Another hour. You should take a nap. That'll help the time pass."

Obi-Wan said something unintelligible.

Mom: "Let him be, Obi."

A short silence, before Mom started humming.

The humming gave way to Dad singing, as he picked up the tune.

"...You make me happy, when skies are grey..."

Then both Mom and Dad, singing in harmony: "... You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."

A beat of silence, before Mrs. Unduli's piano came in. Followed by Anakin’s voice.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."

Anakin had to stare very hard into the ice cream container, and focus on sucking his spoonful of ice cream, not daring to look at Obi-Wan. His cheeks felt hot. Man, it was so weird hearing his own voice like that! He was so glad his voice sounded good even though it was changing; at least it hadn't broken while he was recording.

"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..."

A lump swelled in Anakin’s throat, and Obi-Wan's arm tightened around him.

"...When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken, so I hung my head and cried."

He'd been so afraid of his voice cracking on those lines, but when he'd actually started singing for the recording yesterday, he'd forgotten about that.

Now came his guitar playing.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."

But Anakin was really waiting for the end. When the piano died out, and the guitar went silent, and the sound shifted to something in a smaller space. He'd recorded this part in his room, months ago.

"You are my brother—will be forever..."

A warm drop of wetness landed on Anakin’s upper arm, followed by another, and he pressed closer, turning his face into Obi-Wan’s neck, ice cream forgotten.

"...You make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. You have been my sunshine today."

Now it was Anakin’s turn to wipe away his big brother's tears; four years of grieving and there were no pretenses left between them.

After a minute, Obi-Wan pressed a long lingering kiss to his forehead, before he gave Anakin a proper bear hug.

"Good grief, kid–"

"Ahh!" Anakin’s yelp broke the moment, thanks to the cold, wet ice cream container now squished against his stomach.

Obi-Wan let him go, laughing. "Okay," he said, drying his face on his sleeve. "Maybe go stick that in the freezer."

Anakin did so, wishing his face didn't feel so hot. When he walked back into the living room, Obi-Wan was on his feet, reaching for him.

Anakin went willingly, burying his face in his big brother's shoulder.

"I know you want to fix cars," Obi-Wan muttered in his ear, "but you should definitely record some songs on the side. You have such a good voice."

"You liked it?"

Obi-Wan laughed once, softly. "Oh, Ani. I love you so much. If I listen to that as many times as I want, I don't think either of us will get our homework done."

A smile crept across Anakin’s face, and when he pulled away, he couldn't stop grinning. "Well, can't have you failing teachers school."

"I bet you've listened to that so many times you're tired of it." Obi-Wan watched him, eyes shining with love and pride.

"Nah. Can't be."

"I'm putting that CD in the truck," Obi-Wan declared. "Do you have a digital copy I can keep on my phone?"

"Yeah."

"Please send that to me."

"Okay." Anakin stuck his hands in his pockets, not sure what else to do with them. "I'm gonna make hot chocolate."

"And then back to your homework, young man."

"Yes, Daaad."

Obi-Wan swatted him lightly in the head, but he was smiling. He was also the first to start singing under his breath, and Anakin couldn't help joining in.

"...You make me happy when skies are grey..."

[mothchildd]

the guys!

hotguy + xelqua from my hero au, midnight city! them <3

scar’s angsty bit is from the bank scene (iykyk) and grian’s angsty bit is from a backstory that has not been revealed yet, so consider this a sort of special reward for being on tumblr :)

i’m happy to answer any questions about this au or how it works, so feel free to send me a message if you’d like! i’ll try to respond ASAP :]

[bojangos]

people who give their togruta fun/unique markings are so powerful.  more powerful than me

feat. vhonte tervho for my jaster lives au lmao

[tatortatshima]

happy new years

i was rushing until countdown-

[firecrackrz]

writing a remjnder to myself to write out my problem sleuth story later. Or at least parts of it i want on paper bc wow. there is so much in my head