#my brain has concluded that I Must Know

[tea-with-eleni]

Volenta Popofsky died about three centuries ago.

The lord of the land was more intimidating in the dark. He wasn’t the jovial host, tonight. He was more like a storm. Unreadable. Unknowable. He looked down at me. The candlelight caught in the ruby in the collar of his vest. It looked like a burning ember. 

“I did not expect you this evening, Miss Volenta,” he said, after a while. “But it seems that you have again managed to charm my wife.” Ludmilla, behind him, said, “She wanted me to kill her, milord. That seems a waste.” Strahd tilted his head. “You wish to keep her as… a pet?” 

“The thing in the mountain temple wants to make me into a monster,” I said. I wouldn’t cry in front of his lordship. “It wants me to betray the people I love. I would rather die.” 

“You came here to throw yourself to the vampyr, then?” Strahd asked. He sounded almost amused. “Would you rather I make you into my monster instead? Is that your choice?” Ludmilla stepped forward to take his arm. “Milord, I will point out that we have not confirmed what freed me. I propose a variation on your idea. The thing in the temple wanted to make her a vampire, most likely… a vampire not beholden to any other. It can hardly do so if we do it first.” 

“Your theory may not be correct. She could die.”

“She requested that first.” 

“Why are you so interested in this now? Why do you need this knowledge tonight?”

Ludmilla curtseyed to her husband. “Milord. Be sensible. This is a rare opportunity. Surely you would rather find out the way of things now, with someone willing, rather than… perhaps… as a woman you love dies of a disease you cannot cure.” 

This didn’t mean anything to me, but it made Strahd flinch. Ludmilla nodded with a faint smile. “I thought as much, milord. Let me keep this one.” 

I got the sense that this was a battle over me, for some reason. I also got the sense that Ludmilla had somehow won. I wasn’t sure that I was willing, but I’d ceded control over the situation to Ludmilla without a fight. So, apparently, had Strahd. That sense was heightened when Strahd nodded, then gestured. An unseen force lifted me to my feet. His eyes, just as red as Milla’s, burned with the same intensity as the gem he wore. Whatever happened now, I wasn’t going to walk out of here alive. It would save Nyshka from me, though, so it had to be worth it. 

I couldn’t look at Milla, but I felt her lips against the nearly-healed punctures at my throat. Her fangs stung, but the sensation faded quickly. My fear enhanced the electric rush. It distracted me, and I did not notice at first when Strahd took my wrist. 

His bite was different. It was far more painful; this pain did not fade, it only intensified, from a stabbing spike to an all-consuming agony. I could not move. I could not push him off. I would not have fought Ludmilla. I could not help but fight this. It was pointless. My vision began to gray around the edges. I would not have stayed standing without Strahd’s magic. 

It may have been a mercy that I could not cry out as dizziness swamped me. Eventually, Strahd tilted my head back and dripped something – I could no longer focus well enough to guess what – into my mouth. It burned. I coughed, choked, tried to spit it out. 

“You need to drink, sweetness,” Ludmilla said. “Or you’ll die and rise a slave. Drink.” I wanted to obey, but I couldn’t move. I felt her thumb brush my lips. More of the burning, acrid, terrible liquid dripped into my mouth. “Drink,” she whispered. “Please, sweetness.” 

I tried. I don’t know if I succeeded. A noise I was scarcely aware of hearing seemed to falter. Something on the edge of hearing skipped. Paused. Tried to continue. Silence.

Well. Hopefully, I at least tasted good. 

[occamstfs]

Green Eyes of Envy

Adam finds a necklace that promises anything his heart desires and nothing does he desire more than a body no one could deny.

Vaguely Halloweeny possession story based on a well-trodden trigger! Twink -> Jock -> Bear(ish?) IQ drain/corruption. Don't forget to vote on my Viral Transformation Story poll, only one day left! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

As soon as he sees the necklace lying on the ground Adam throws it on. So far it’s another subpar night spent going home alone from the bar, at least if he nabs a cute accessory there’ll be something gained. After throwing it on, when there’s a sudden buzzing in the back of his head that’s increasingly approximating a voice Adam chalks it up to his conscience trying to speak up about his and promptly ignores it.

Once he arrives home and takes time to stare at the medallion dangling on his thin chest however, he finds the voice may well have been something external, something supernatural. As a voice resounds in his head that is clearly not his own, “Adam is it?” Concluding he’s already fallen unconscious, hopefully indeed in his home, or that he’s had far too much to drink tonight for him to remember whatever he’s about to get into he plays along. “Whazzit to ya-” Realizing just what a goldmine position it has found itself in, the presence within the necklace prepares to strike.

From the drunken grumblings made by the young man in their short time together there is clearly insecurity to pray upon, and his new owner seems adverse to caution. The being within the necklace feels close enough to gaining a physical form, a body, it can almost taste it. It cannot slip up this close to the finish line and must act swiftly and with care, “So Adam, I take it you did not fare too well in your night on the town?” 

The drunken Adam’s small hands suddenly grasp the chain and pull slightly, moaning incoherently all the while. Feeling the tug the necklace quickly speaks up once more, “Woah woah woah my dear, do be careful! If you allow me, I can help you achieve your wildest dreams!” Eyes suddenly grow deathly serious as he hears the metallic voice speak in his head, “you cuh- anythin-?” 

Calculating faster than a human mind can, the voice seizes on the curiosity, banking that whatever the drunk asks will indeed be in his purview, “Anything.” The hitherto thoughtlessly lolling mouth curls into a smirk and his mind dances with the possibilities, “Uhhhh, genie ruleshh, ish it?” 

The medallion somehow sighs not wanting to highlight the potential, or fact rather, that it’s going to twist the man’s wish to his own end but sensing its holder’s brain seems the type to rarely make a connection deeper than surface level it concludes it should be fine. “Sure, something like that.” The chain jostles on Adam’s thin shoulders as he shrugs, “whateva- can you jussht give me the body of a fuckin’ stud?” Perfect. Mission accomplished.

Adam’s eyes flash green as the medallion does similarly, connecting them and giving whatever surely sinister being lies within the small coin carte blanche. Speaking from a deeper foothold in Adam’s mind the voice gives the perfunctory warning that any act of magic requires, “Do be wary of course, the inner bits of yourself have a nasty habit of matching the outer changes.” Though knowing that it’s now only a matter of time before it’s in control it begins to reveal it’s less than amicable side, “though given how fast you let me in it seems your deep inner tapestry hasn’t all too much to lose.”

Treating the slight as if it were the annoying buzz of an insect flying around his head, Adam quickly ignores the voice altogether and pulls out his phone to hunt for the perfect body. Lucky for the spirit Adam was already beyond horny before the necklace even graced his neck, so it is not long before his envious eyes find a man enthralling. In no time at all Adam is halfway drooling as he stares at some influencer’s massive pecs. He’s doing some skit but Adam doesn’t hear a word he says, as he stares his desire proves enough tinder for the spirit’s work to begin on his body.

Adam’s eyes simply flash green and laughter fills his mind, just as muscle begins to fill out his chest. Having always made excuses to shy away from the gym for one reason or another Adam smirks as he gropes his growing pecs. Suddenly bursting from non-existence into the by far largest muscles on his body, eclipsing his ass and thighs in a manner that should not be possible. Nipples surge larger as a few thick curls begin to smatter themselves across the burgeoning pecs. Nails scratching into the soft muscle Adam smirks as he imagines that no matter how hard he tries from here on out he could never hide these powerful pecs.

Emerald shade clearing from his eyes the aftereffects of his proud new chest are less than apparent. Rather than any grand changes to the horny drunk’s personality, the spirit simply allows the current drunken recklessness to seep in deeper. Suddenly the type to never back away from challenges even in a sober state, Adam smirks as he imagines all the heads that will turn when he gets a chance to show off his bulky new pecs. Though despite how impressive they are, they can’t be the only brawn on his body hm? Before the spirit even has a chance to seed the desire for more changes, Adam himself hungrily returns to the hunt for his own aggrandization.

Only having just faded back to his natural eye color his eyes quickly shade a darker green than even that of the medallion as Adam stares at the arms of a gymnast that pops into his feed. He clenches his jaw and reflexively flexes his arms as his weak biceps suddenly surge with the strength of someone who has spent a lifetime working towards his own betterment. He smirks as veins bulge down his biceps as his own laughter resounds even louder than that of the spirit in his own head. Forearms and triceps suddenly hold strength that hasn’t a hope to reasonably wield. 

Adam’s eyes then trail from the impressive arms towards what he always paid more attention to when the gymnast was trending, the man’s thick pits. Instantly does intense itching begin in Adam’s armpits. They burn with pleasure as a forest begins to surge outwards, growing thicker as he desires to be more than any man that pops onto his screen. The few hairs painting his chest rapidly expand in kind to compete with the dank jungles that now thrive and drip with sweat under his arms. Sitting there smirking as he tears his eyes away from his phone to delight in his new beyond hairy pits as rivers of musky sweat begin trickling down his bulging pecs and thick biceps.

Suddenly having the upper body of an Olympian, Adam’s mind grows foggy with a pride even greater than the sum of his impressive parts. Bouncing his pecs for the first time while doing a double bicep flex, Adam is filled with lust for his own form and a growing confidence that already no man could ever possibly resist him. He grunts and notices that his neck has similarly grown thicker, his voice resounding deeper as an adam’s apple bulges onto his previously smooth neck. Moaning as he takes a deep breath and enjoys his new heady musk, he feels his mind start to drift away from the pursuit of perfection and to instead just give in prematurely to hedonism as his larger hands inch towards his crotch. 

Before getting the chance the voice returns and whispers like a snake, “ahh ahh ahh Adam… We are not complete yet.” Looking down at his lower body he shakes off his horny delirium and agrees, rapidly returns to the more than mindless scrolling, thankfully easily able to hold up against the whims of his still average cock. Adam again does not have to search long before his eyes land upon men he longs to be, to have, to be with. His eyes once more glow a searing Emerald, and the medallion scarcely lights up, at the sight of two specimens that alight more jealousy than anything yet.

Memories of his anxieties and self-doubt quickly vacate as confidence imbues every inch of him, staring at the thick thighs and powerful calves of the bodybuilders he feels his power and pride grow to new heights. Immediately sending tears down the ratty old skinny jeans he wore to the bar, thighs that make it immediately clear that their owner could break a watermelon between them surge into existence. Finally regaining their top spot as the largest muscles on the body they grow larger than his pecs before being similarly outmatched by his ass growing firm and flexing larger with each hungry glance at the two men.

Legs cramping outward the spirit within Adam feels his ability to control the man almost come to a head. Adam doesn’t notice as his fingers twitch and flex beyond his control nor does he care as his toes strain in the air as his feet inch larger. Why does it matter that his chest is flexing without being told, it’s hot, Adam surely meant to do that anyway. Looking down and inspecting his new form, concern slides off his mind anyway as he sees hair begin to increase across his chest, rapidly shooting down abs that he didn’t even notice forming. 

He plays with the forest of hair beginning to shadow the whole of his torso as he feels similar stubble being to scratch against his chin. Tilting his head, his foggy mind struggles to wonder how he’s still changing without looking at men like the medallion instructed. Looking at his reflection in the mirror and seeing the impossibly alluring figure he has become however he decides to not care what the stupid thing said anyway. He must have gotten what he needs from it already.

Thoughtlessly he removes the necklace and tosses it away having decided he’s more than enough man. Only then does his bulge begin to grow beyond what he has always known it to be. There’s a sigh of relief and anticipation as he realizes he almost missed a chance to grow his cock with whatever that coin did to him. Face and chest burning red with blush he forces his hand into his crotch and smirks as he feels his thick fingers begin to tangle in his new bush. His free hand still dances across the bounty of chest hair and his new mustache scratches against his shoulder as he bathes in the new musk that resounds from his pits.

Mind clouded from his changes, having far too much to drink, and the cocktail of new hormones issuing forth from balls rapidly filling his briefs, Adam pulls out his larger cock and begins to go to town. Experiencing the new heights of pleasure that his dream body allows Adam loses himself to new ecstasy. His cock stretches to a size that rivals the forearm of a lesser man and his balls race to match the size his impressive body warrants. If it weren’t for his hand slowing down its thrusts it’s likely that Adam would never notice what was to happen to him next.

His face moves in unfamiliar patterns as something besides him stretches it to understand how to control it. Eyes slam shut as far as they can and then reopen, and Adam suddenly realizes that he can no longer move them of his own volition, and yet he still sees. Staring out from eyes seemingly out of his control, Adam feels his mouth smirk without instruction as a voice he has barely gotten the chance to use spills out from his thicker lips, “Well well young Adam. Excellent work thus far, think I’ll take over from here though lad.” 

Adam struggles for dominance as he finds himself but a voice in his own head, watching his new fingers dance at the end of powerful arms he scarcely had time to appreciate. He feels them flex and struggles not to give in to the delight of the power and continue fighting. Feeling himself not totally lost he endeavors a hail mary and focuses all his attention to the one thing that has always been able to override his mind in the past. His balls churn and his cock bounces as even whatever clearly powerful spirit now controlling his form is unable to resist his rising lusts. The need for release that suddenly blares through every sweaty inch of his skin and the being totally not used to self-control or human weakness struggles to not give in.

The spirit grunts as it remembers its tenuous position on reality, through its own suddenly clouded mind it goes into bargaining mode, struggling to stop their body from its uncontrollable thrusting into the air, “Ohh oh fuck okay, another deal. I can’t- We can’t cum yet or grgh- Please not yet!” Adam grinds the well-trodden neural pathways of lust to a halt as he desires to hear the being out. To signal his willingness to play ball, as well as out of the hope Adam should be better at staying his hand from masturbation, it allows Adam full control once more. Adam does begin playing with his cock immediately, moreso from the ever-pressing desire to cum rather than intimidation at expelling the spirit though it works for both. 

The spirit somehow clears his throat within Adam’s head, “To level, I am in here now, for good. But we can work out an arrangement, we can share. You can fuck and frot whatever, but every so often I’ll need a chance at the wheel for my own, uhm ends. Worry not, if anything it’ll only amount to more pleasure for yourself!” Adam cups his larger balls and struggles to understand the implications of this agreement. He hasn’t the capacity to care that his intellect seems to have diminished as his body grew, in fact as clearly duller words spill out of his mouth it only turns him on more, “Uuhhh, so we’ll share my body?”

Somehow rolling eyes he doesn’t have control over, the being realizes this must be a two way street and agrees, “Of course, you just let me do my thing and we’ll get along great.” Adam scratches his beard itching thicker and shrugs, “Sure dude, whatever.” At the lightest sign of agreement the spirit seizes control, too late does he realize his haste has caused him a misstep. Whether its his limited time in the corrupted mind of Adam forcing human err unto the spirit or simply from just how unprepared the spirit is to handle the overwhelming lust in Adam’s mind, rather than sharing control the two become irrevocably one in both body and mind. Whatever sinister priorities the spirit had rapidly shift to match the hedonistic needs of Adam. Rapidly fading into the bestial desire of Adam the spirit turns up its nose as it finds itself wanting to change their now shared form, “If we’re gonna share, uh bro, need a bit more space in here eh?”

With that, Adam’s eyes cross and he struggles to not burp as he feels his powerful form begin to bloat. His beard thickens as both minds become one and mass begins to pile onto his torso as abs grow into a bulky muscle gut underneath his still impressive pecs. Scratching his ass as it too grows a jungle of hair before going back to palm his cock, both minds feel sedated as they smell his thick musk and Adam can scarcely remember any priorities besides the all-important goal of seeking his own pleasure. 

To this end the pair find themselves awash in exploring their-his body, for countless hours of making a mess of his bedroom, living room, and kitchen Adam finally remembers that there is more to the world than his small apartment. There are more holes to explore than the few in himself and far more to see than the steamy videos he can pull up on his phone. Wiping drool off his face and crusted cum off his torso, something at the back of Adam’s mind itches as he feels there was something greater he was supposed to do, something he was supposed to spread or some control he was supposed to enforce. Giving his pits a good sniff he smirks before opining that perhaps there is no greater goal than spreading his own glory far and wide.

Quite the easy enough task as it runs out as whatever the spirit did before fading into but another aspect of Adam’s lusty mind gave him the ability to attract anyone to his cause. Rather than whatever dire cause intended, with the two totally merged the only purpose of his inhumanly alluring self is to spread pleasure. As soon as he steps out of his front door he finds men throwing themselves at him in droves. Jocks, twinks, and bears alike could not possibly resist the titan as he walks down the street, always shadowed by a heavy wave of his aphrodisiac musk.

Adam’s eyes glance across and stare through every man whose hungry eyes cannot look away, whose shoulders fly back in submission, whose noses lead them to trial behind him. While many of them get the chance to enjoy time with the inhumanly alluring man, only a few get to experience the truly rapturous experience of being changed by Adam himself. Only a select few find themselves molded into something greater than that they are when they first submit to Adam’s will. Though even a few is enough to spread and as time goes on the number of musky men wandering around could certainly become a problem. Lucky for the world perhaps, whatever cause the medallion held is long forgotten and the changed men yearn for no higher purpose than pleasure. And with the enhancements gifted by Adam, that is precisely what they find.

[superbat-love]

Dick: Alright, guys! Post-mission inspection. You know the drill.

Groans and grumbles were heard but everyone dutifully lined up in a row.

Jason: Must we do this every night?

Bruce: We wouldn’t have to if you were all honest about your own injuries.

Clark: You’re not exactly the person who should be saying that, Bruce. You do the same thing.

Bruce: Do as I say, not as I do.

Clark flew down in front of them and used his eyes to carefully scan over each and every one of them.

***

Clark: You should get that knife wound on your thigh treated. You can’t hide it from me by standing like that, Damian.

Damian: Tis nothing but a scratch, alien.

***

Tim: My head has been hit tonight but I don’t have any concussion. Someone tried to stab me but his knife merely grazed my arm. Another guy punched my stomach but my armor absorbed most of the force from the blow. Based on these observations, I conclude that most of my injuries are superficial and therefore, there’s no cause for concern.

Clark: Hmm, your brain waves look normal. There’s some bruising on your stomach but luckily there’s no internal bleeding. You should really get that wound on your back bandaged though, Tim, you’re bleeding a lot.

***

Clark: Your shoulder’s dislocated, Jason, and that wound seems to be inflamed.

Jason: Oh, this? [Snaps his shoulder back into place] Meh, I’ve had worse. I’ll just clean this with alcohol. [pours the beer that he’s drinking onto the wound, ignoring Bruce’s outraged gasp] Voila, good as new.

***

Clark: All good, Dick. Clean bill of health!

Dick: Heh, no one’s fast enough to land a blow on me!

Jason: Check his head again, Superman. I think you may have missed something.

Damian: You wanna test that theory, Grayson?

Tim: The probability of that clean bill of health is decreasing as we speak.

Dick: Don’t hate the player, hate the game.

***

Bruce: That’s it, all of you report to the med bay. Now. Except Dick. His brain is fine, boys, so you can put your hands down.

Clark: Not so fast. I need to check on you too, Bruce. I can see your brain already calculating ways of escape.

Bruce: …Fine. Get on with it.

Clark:

Bruce: Clark?

Clark:

Bruce: Clark, are you done yet?

Clark: Beautiful

Cue the groans and sounds of retching in the batcave.

[snorlaxlovesme]

alright everybody, it's time we talked about Hostage. (buckle up because this is going to be long, but it'll be worth it)

season 2 episode 8 of Link Click was one of the most confounding episodes in the entire season while airing. starting with Lu Guang's insane boat crash/martial arts smackdown rescue of Cheng Xiaoshi and ending with Cheng Xiaoshi diving into a photo to possess Lu Guang to get answers for his actions, from start to finish it was a wild ass ride where we, the fandom, AND the characters spent the whole time questioning Lu Guang and his motives

and...puzzlingly... didn't really get an answers by the end of the season

Lu Guang wasn't granted any post-climax time to explain what happened that day from his perspective, and while Cheng Xiaoshi was possessing him he didn't get any answers because he literally WAS Lu Guang, just doing whatever the hell he thought he needed to do.

the thing about Hostage that has always felt extremely off to me, is that we DO get explanations for Lu Guang's actions during the episode, but they're from people wholly unqualified to be giving them.

Captain Xiao finds Lu Guang's phone, hidden in a folded towel, and concludes that Lu Guang had left them clues. Qiao Ling, after seeing that Lu Guang had taken a photo that night, came to the conclusion that Cheng Xiaoshi must have been the one possessing Lu Guang during his deranged rescue plan at the pier, seeing as Lu Guang wasn't an adept fighter at the dojo and he was acting extremely impulsive. She even goes so far to say, later in the episode, that Cheng Xiaoshi HAS to dive into the photo, because it's already happened, and needs to follow Lu Guang's words to not change the timeline.

all of these assumptions, to me, are horseshit

I refuse to listen to ANYTHING Captain Xiao says. one, because he simply does not know these kids and should not be making assumptions about them, and two he is in fact the worst cop in the world. and Qiao Ling, bless her heart, has only found out how their powers work mere DAYS ago and doesn't understand the nuances of them at all

so I'm gonna debunk all that nonsense and explain to you what Lu Guang's REAL actions were that night, and what was up with that cryptic photo he took

now you might be thinking, Kelly, you're not even starting in the right place, because those weren't Lu Guang's actions, they were always Cheng Xiaoshi's, just in Lu Guang's body!

FALSE. on two counts! we have evidence of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi performing the act of escaping the hospital differently. Lu Guang does not use the kettle to break the window to distract the cops. we're not sure what he uses, but that kettle is still there.

Lu Guang also places his phone face down in the towel

while Cheng Xiaoshi places it faceup

so by the end of the episode we have literal, physical evidence that these two performed this timeline differently, and therefore it was not "Cheng Xiaoshi the whole time" like Qiao Ling tried to misinform us to believe. i also have another Big Brain post [x] that explains why Lu Guang being an impulsive, supposedly "good" fighter during that pier rescue scene are both in-character for him.

(and if we wanna get really nitpicky about how an injured Lu Guang could have raced across town in his condition, i simply believe that Lu Guang was smarter about it that Cheng Xiaoshi, and probably took a bus or cab. Cheng Xiaoshi, pure of heart and dumb of ass, ran because HE physically could while inhabiting Lu Guang's body. our injured catboy did not sprint across town while holding his organs in place)

so if we already have all this cold, hard evidence stating that Lu Guang really is THAT bitch and did all that shit on his own, what the hell is my problem? why can I not let this episode go?

BECAUSE I WANNA KNOW WHY LU GUANG TOOK THAT PHOTO

Captain Useless seems to think that Lu Guang took that photo as some sort of helpful clue left behind for the gang

but what, pray tell, was this photo supposed to tell us without someone with Lu Guang's powers there to interpret it? without Lu Guang to tell him what to do, Cheng Xiaoshi left to his own devices knows just as much as himself as he does possessing Lu Guang

and, the bigger question, is if this was supposed to be some sort of almighty clue for the gang, why did he not text this photo to either Qiao Ling or Cheng Xiaoshi before escaping the hospital? he took the time to text Qiao Ling the location of the boat, did he not? why not the photo too? seems like a crappy way to clue someone in, to take a photo and save it on your password protected phone that you just went out of your way to hide from plain sight

because that's the thing! after the season finale we discover that Lu Guang's password is literally a reminder of his dive, or even more specifically, a reminder of his trauma. we KNOW that he didn't share his password with Cheng Xiaoshi, he just just happened to figure it out on his own

so tell me how Lu Guang expected this trauma-password protected phone, with it's one singular picture, to get in the hands of Cheng Xiaoshi, hmm? riddle me THAT

so we've established by now that 1. Lu Guang's actions in the beginning of episode 8 were indeed his own and 2. that photo was never meant to be seen by Cheng Xiaoshi, who shouldn't have known Lu Guang's passcode

given the trauma-passcode, we have to believe that the only person ever meant to see this photo was Lu Guang. i've made ANOTHER post previously [x] stating that Lu Guang might have used his powers in a way we haven't known possible, by taking a photo and using his Blue Eyes White Dragon powers to see 12 hours into the immediate future

plausible, but not what i'm about to propose now.

because I think Lu Guang took that photo as a contingency plan

listen, the only person who had ANY credentials to theorize what Lu Guang was up to that night was his trusted partner. while Qiao Ling and Captain Xiao spouted their nonsense theories, Cheng Xiaoshi said the only smart thing that entire brainstorming session

and I think Cheng Xiaoshi was right. he wasn't wrong in assuming this photo was a Save Point of sorts, the only thing he was wrong about was who would be using it

the only other person in this show capable of diving into a photo, we find out during the finale, is Lu Guang

we also find out in the finale that powers are transferrable, and it looks like they transfer when the owner of that power dies in someone else's arms

Lu Guang took that photo that night NOT for Cheng Xiaoshi to find and use, but for LU GUANG himself to use. i believe Lu Guang firmly believed that Cheng Xiaoshi was to die that night, and he would do everything in his power to make sure he had a chance to change it again if he needed to.

that meant:

1.taking a photo on his phone as a Save Point.

2. hiding his phone in the hospital bathroom so it could not be taken from him or busted later in the night. and

3. racing to where he knew Cheng Xiaoshi would be, so he could either

4. a.) rescue him, or b.) ensure that during CXS's death, the diving power was transferred back to him so he could do the night over again.

Lu Guang took that photo as contingency plan to save Cheng Xiaoshi's life should he get killed that night.

but that plan was botched when Cheng Xiaoshi used it instead to possess Lu Guang, because each photo can only be used once.

which might also explain why Lu Guang was SO DISTRAUGHT when Cheng Xiaoshi was shot

they had deleted all their photos earlier that week to prevent the twins from possessing them remotely

that was the last photo Lu Guang had taken. the ONLY photo on his phone. if Cheng Xiaoshi died that night, there would have been no Save Point to return to

[soursturniolo]

Hurtful Words • Nick Sturniolo

Synopsis: Nick and his boyfriend get into a fight the night before leaving for Boston. After some of the harsh words from Nick, his boyfriend is left hurt and uncertain of his place in his boyfriends life.

Pairing: Nick x male reader/character (no y/n but also no other name used, he/him pronouns)

Tags: angst, hurt, a bit of sunshine!reader x grumpy!nick, nick has a panic attack, comfort (happy ending because I guess I'm not 100% evil yet)

Nick had been extremely stressed all day. Nothing was going right, first he woke up late and missed his meeting. Then, he went to edit a video they had prefilmed to post while him, his brothers, and his boyfriend would be in Boston, just to discover the SD card was corrupted and nothing could be salvaged from it. Next, he developed a horrible headache as he was rushing to finish up packing for the flight tomorrow morning. Now, he was getting ready to film a replacement video with his brothers right as his cheerful boyfriend strode into his bedroom. Fuck , Nick thought to himself. He had forgotten his boyfriend was coming this early.

“Hey!” his boyfriend smiled as he made his way over to him, arms open for the usual hug they’d share. Most always, his boyfriends sunny disposition made him smile, but today it just made him irrationally angry.

“Hi,” Nick responds flatly, not meeting his partners eyes as he dodged the hug and affection being offered. If Nick had been looking up he would have seen the look of confusion and concern flash across the other man’s face as his arms lowered to the side upon seeing that Nick clearly didn’t want a hug.

The other man frowns as he takes in Nick’s disheveled appearance, hair sticking up from most likely stressful tugging, a clenched jaw and tense shoulders. Knowing Nick for almost a year now, he knows his boyfriend isn’t one to immediately talk out his feelings, so he doesn’t ask but quickly concludes it must have been quite a rough day for the brunette. Usually in these situations, they’ll cuddle and relax and watch some stupid TV show, so that’s what the man suggests. To which, Nick scoffs.

“I don’t have time to just lay around with you, I need to go do my job, I have so much shit I need to do before tomorrow,” Nick gripes, moving around to grab the camera and SD cards off his desk, stuffing them into a bag to take to the car where he’s sure his brothers are already waiting for him. In packing he’d lost track of time, looking at his phone to see its already 17 minutes past the time they said they’d meet in the garage.

His boyfriend nods in understanding, seeing the obvious stress practically pouring out of every pore of his boyfriend. He reaches out a hand, gently touching Nick’s arm, trying his best to sooth him.

“is there anything I can do to help?” he asks softly.

“Jesus Christ!” Nick exclaims, feeling overwhelmed by everything all at once, like his skin is on fire and every little thing makes his head pound even harder, yaking his arm away from the other man’s touch “yknow what actually, there is. Just leave me the fuck alone for two seconds!”

The man frowns slightly, taking a step back at Nick’s sudden outburst, wrapping his own arms around him, head cooking to the side minutely.

“we’ve been apart all day? I’m just trying to help, I’m sorry sweetheart,” he says softly, trying to give him a soft smile, which just makes Nick scoff and roll his eyes again. A deep frown paints his boyfriends face at the reaction, the man tightening his arms around himself, shoulders hunching in slightly.

“And you come in here all fucking smiles and hugs. you’re just happy all the fucking time. Just this fucking ray of sunshine. Some of us fucking aren’t. Maybe this just wasn’t a good idea.” Nick spits out, his words venom. Part of his brain is yelling at him to shut up seeing the hurt look spreading over his boyfriends face, but the angry voice overshadows that one, just wanting everyone to feel has horrible as he feels.

“What? What isn’t a good idea?” the man asks him, voice small, fearing the answer. Did Nick mean him coming to Boston along with his brothers to finally meet his parents? While he had been nervous about meeting his boyfriends parents at first, in the past few days he had become quite excited. Thinking of meeting his family, his family dog too. He had bought gifts for them all, even a chew toy for Trevor. Even today, the young man had found himself daydreaming at work, thinking of how well it all might go, imagining them all sitting around a table looking at photo albums and smiling as he learns more about the past of the man he so desperately wants a future with.

Nicks quick response has those hopes shattering, along with his heart.

“This. Us. I don’t know. I just need to fucking breathe. I’m leaving to film with Chris and Matt. Bye.” Nick half yells, voice strained as he stalks his way to the door, yanking it open and slamming it shut as he leaves, leaving a tearful man standing in the middle of the room wondering where it all went so wrong.

Nick was distracted the whole entire time they were filming, overcome with guilt and regret. He had been so harsh to his boyfriend, his number one supporter, next to his family of course. Flashes of the other man’s hurt face flicker in his mind, the timid and soft nature he had taken on as Nick raged at him, a shadow of the mans usually bright and bubbly demeanor. Even when he was short with him at first, instead of just leaving, his sweet boyfriend had still apologized and compassionately offered help. And what did Nick do to show his appreciation? Told him callously that maybe them dating had been a bad idea.

That wasn’t true in the slightest. They’d been together 7 months at this point, and it had been some of the happiest months of Nick’s life. He’d experienced a happiness that he never thought he’d get even remotely close to again, and this was how he repaid the man? Throwing his cheerful and sweet nature in his face as if it was something to be ashamed of? It made him sick to his stomach to recall how he’d behaved.

Noticing their brothers distraction, Matt and Chris suggested cutting the video short, under the guise of wanting to get on good nights sleep before their early flight home. The drive home was quick and quiet as Nick thought of all the ways he’d apologize to his sweet boyfriend who had a heart almost too good to be true.

The brothers quickly said goodnight and parted ways, Nick taking the stairs two at a time to get to his room so he could ask for the man’s forgiveness. Upon opening the door, he’s met with disappointment. He had left. Nick knew he shouldn’t be surprised though. As he pulls out his phone to call the man he knew he had hurt, a bag on his bed catches his eye, along with a note. He peaks in the bag, confused upon seeing four boxes wrapped in a plain purple wrapping paper, as he picks up the letter, recognizing the handwriting and feeling his heart clench painfully in his chest as he begins to read.

Nick,

I’m sorry, I never meant to upset you. I know I can be a lot, and I understand if it’s gotten too much to deal with. I was really looking forward to seeing Boston and meeting your family. But it’d be silly for me to tag along now, at this point. I had gotten some things for your parents, Justin, and Trevor. I was hoping you’d maybe give them to them for me?

Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back for my plane ticket if it’s too late to cancel it.

Thank you for the last 7 months, they meant the world to me. You did, too.

Nick feels tears gather in his eyes, beginning to stream down his face as he sits the letter down and quickly scrolls to his contact on his phone.

"please, pick up, pick up, pick up" he mutters, sniffling as he waits and hopes he'll answer. A shred of hope blooms upon hearing his call answered answer, the soft noise of a car engine in the back. Good, maybe his boyfriend hadn't made it home yet.

"baby?" Nick sniffles slightly, voice cracking. He hears the man on the other end of the line sniffle too, and he feels his heart crack a little more. he'd made his sweetheart cry.

"what do you need, nick?" the other man asks softly and tearfully.

"I need you. please turn around, I know you’re still in the car. I'm so sorry," Nick pleads.

"it's okay Nick," he sniffles, "just give those gifts to them, please?" he asks.

"no, I'm not," Nick cries, tears streaming down his face, one hand clutching his hair as the other clutches his phone against his ear, sagging against the wall and sliding down it into a heap on the floor, his chest feeling tighter and tighter.

"okay, I'll get them back from you when you guys get back home," he offers, which just makes Nick cry harder. He really fucked up this time.

"no, no you're supposed to give them to them, I want you to, I want you to turn around and come back here so I can tell you how fucking sorry I am and kiss you and watch a stupid movie with you and then we get up and we go to Boston tomorrow morning and you get to meet my family and see where I'm from and everything and they'll love you and your little gifts and your smile that can light up a room and they'll love you because I love you," he pleads over the phone, desolving into sobs on the phone.

the other man on the line tears up again at the sweet words and obvious remorse, and he wants to respond to them but Nick is spiraling in regret and sadness and he can hear that it's getting harder for him to breathe through his cries.

he turns the car around, beginning to take a shortcut back to the triplets house.

"Nick, I need you to breathe," the man says softly, hearing the loud cries through the speakers of his car.

"No, I'm not Nick, you never call me nick when we're alone, its always Nicky or sweetheart or babe," the brunette sobs, still feeling like his relationship is slipping through his fingers, and it's his own fault.

The man grips his steering wheel a little tighter, driving a little faster.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I just need you to breathe for me, in your nose and out your mouth real slow for me okay? you know that box breathing technique I showed matt a few months ago?" he softly asks Nick.

"Yeah," Nick sniffles, breathing still shaking and disordered.

"Good baby, I'm going to count and I want you to breathe with me okay? I'm almost there but I need you to breathe for me until I get there, okay?" He asks softly.

As he continues to drive, he counts off and listens as Nick breathes with him, slight sniffles still present as he tries to focus on getting his breathing regulated with the knowledge that his boyfriend is coming back.

Nick doesn't even register the sound of his boyfriends car turning off or the sound of him using his house key to get in. his head jerks up to look up from his spot on the floor to see his boyfriend standing in his doorway. He quickly moves from his position on the floor, getting up and launching himself into his boyfriends arms.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean a fucking word I said," he sobs, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend tightly and burrowing his head into his neck, his tears wetting the skin. His boyfriend holds him just as snuggly in his arms, rubbing a soothing hand over his back as the other hand cups the back of his head softly.

"I know, its alright," the man sooths, but the words have an opposite affect on Nick, as the brunette pulls back quickly as he shakes his head.

"It's not alright! I was mean because I had a bad day and my head fucking hurts, and I hurt you. You didn't deserve that. I love you, and I love your personality and how loving and happy you are. It isnt something I or anyone should throw in your face. I should have talked to you, I should have thanked you for wanting to help me. I'm so sorry, ill be better, I'll get better at talking to you and communicating and not just blowing up at you for no reason," Nick sniffles, roughly wiping away his own tears.

"Okay, I forgive you," the other man offers softly, as he gently pulls Nick's hands away from the rough rubbing of his face.

"No! You shouldn't just forgive me, why are you being so nice right now?" Nick objects, confused by his boyfriends behavior as more tears make their way down his face.

The other man smiles softly and sadly, guiding his boyfriend over to the bed and sitting, pulling Nick down to sit right next to him. He gently guides Nicks head to rest on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around the man in a comforting embrace that Nick easily allows himself to be pulled into, the closeness easing the pain and regret in his heart.

"Let me ask you a couple things, okay? Maybe that'll help you understand why I'm forgiving you?" he offers, carding his fingers though Nick's hair softly, as he feels Nick nod and whisper is consent into his shoulder.

"Do you genuinely regret how you treated me?" A quick and firm nod from Nick.

"Do you see how hurtful your misplaced irritation can be?" Another firm nod and squeeze from Nick's arms around him is felt.

"Do you genuinely plan on working on communicating with me and being better in the future so this doesn't happen again?" Another nod and squeeze.

"Do you still love me and want to be with me, and want me to come to Boston with you?" This receives the fastest nod and squeeze of all the questions, making the man smile and turn to press a soft kiss to Nick's head.

"See. You acknowledged and took ownership of what you did wrong, you plan to work on being better, and I know you're genuinely sorry and regret hurting me the way you did. I trust you, so I trust what you say and the fact that this will not happen again. We will deal better the next time," he explains softly to the man in his arms.

"Okay. I promise I'll do better, I love you," Nick hoarsely whispers against his shoulder, cuddling more into the other man's side.

"I know, I love you too," Nick smiles wobbly as he hears those words and feels another kiss pressed against his head. He leans up, softly pressing his lips against the man's jaw, then his cheek, then thr corner of his mouth, smiling when we feels the skin move under his lips into a matching smile. Then, Nick presses their lips together in a soft and gentle kiss, trying to convey all the love and warmth he feels for the man in his embrace. His own ray of sunshine.

author's note: hey! i hope yall enjoyed! if you have any nick requests feel free to send em my way! im slowly but surely getting back into writing and i really want to write more for nick :)

no tag list on this post because I'm getting ready to redo my old tag list since most either aren't active anymore or have new usernames

[wukyma]

Oh you answered my question ♡ thank u, you fed us so much with all this lore !

First of all, the new poseidon illustration is now my new phone wallpaper, omg his pretty big face with the voluptuous hair .

Second of all, pretty please continue even without pictures ! I'm so interested in your Au! (Ur so right about the not-excuses of Odysseus, I would want Vengeance tho after this bad self-centered justification)

Love the poli/peri/emperor friendship, it's not the first time I see this headcanon and it's such a good idea actually (of course SweetBoyPoli is friend with everyone but the impeccable flavor of a friendship between opposites is still very cool/ complementary) !

But but if I can ask for pictures i would die to see 👀 the moment where they conclude the deal ?

(Also the HAND almost ON Polites FACE??? I have stated at that one for definitely too long. Oh god. Please, its kinda make me feral. )

💫Tatooed Polities ?💫 I must see him with the trident tattoo one day... OR even better : eurylochus/ody reaction to it! Because They know him for almost forever now, so the devastating realitie must be so hard on them (having a deal with a strong and violent god such as the earthshaker and all the implications, ohh good Angst!)

Okay, tell me I read that right too, Poli becoming ✨️friend ✨️ with Circe ?? Fuck your brain is big. Gotta think about the events on circe island with your Polities, that change everything for the better. Of course they can't fight so that rule out Ody and the Moly but maybe Hermes's still here anyway ? Like the little mischievous god he is...

So I have to ask, is Poseidon gonna spy on the fleet -especially Poli since he's beefing with him- ? I kinda have this picture of water spirits reporting to the god every steps ? Tell me if I'm in the wrong ~

(I'm SO ready for mockery tho 🧨 )

Honestly I'm really invested here so every choice is good ♡ would appreciate to read more anyway

(Not very good at detective sorry but hoping someone else will find it!)

FIRST OF ALL receive my massive thanks for writing such a detailed comment on my AU!! These guys are very dear to me, and it makes me extremely happy when someone matches my freak has the same vision <33

And you made it your wallpaper?? I'll bawl fr. Sadlyy i didn't really think through the moment where they concluded the deal, but have an interpretation! (Watch as i struggle drawing without any references except my own face)

The tattoo situation is interesting too because its purpose isn't only to seal the deal ;D hoping that I'll be able to show how that works in the next part— and yes, you're right about Circe; I don't care that it's basically a spoiler because they are just besties material 🫶✨️ can definitely promise a glimpse of Hermes!!

I didn't think of Poseidon using spies, but that's kinda adorable and I'll draw it anyway hehe,, something something water winions lore

(The bottom two are both from water but different species/habitats ig? Whatever, I didn't think too much about it)

[thewertsearch]

EB: i would like to be culturally sensitive, but i wish it didn't have to be like that for you. […] AG: Well, thanks John. That's nice of you to say. 8ut let's face it, it doesn't fucking matter anymore, since our whole race was wiped out! […] AG: […] we'll never actually get to come of age and enter troll society, and see if we got what it takes. AG: 8ut that doesn't mean we stop growing up! AG: I think the game knows it's always gonna 8e played 8y kids, and it always rigs it so they enter right around the cusp of sexual maturity, whatever the race is. AG: Which kinda makes sense, since if they succeed, they've got their whole lives ahead of them to do whatever the hell they're going to do in their universe, like start repopul8ing and whatnot.

Vriska thinks that Sburb Players are always kids, because the game wants to give them more time to live in their universe. I'm a little skeptical, and not just because it de-canonizes my Homestucksona.

With the scale of what we’ve seen so far in the game, I didn’t expect a paltry concern like human lifespan to matter. With access to cloning, time travel and brain duplication, rejuvenating one's body would be trivial for a non-ascended Sburb Player, let alone a god of Life or Time.

AG: I really think how successfully they mature is tied to success in the game. It challenges the players in all the ways they need to 8e challenged to grow, which is different for every individual, and veeeeeeeery different for every race.

If Sburb absorbs the cultural standards of its Players, then I’m very happy we didn’t see the Quests that the game tailor-made for the Alternian Empire.

That would explain why we’ve never seen any troll Consorts, though. It's because they were conquered.

AG: I don't think we were so hot at that aspect of the game. In fact, I'm sure we were quite awful. Hell, even I wasn't that gr8 at it! I actually just kinda fell ass 8ackwards into the god tier, to 8e honest.

I wouldn't put too much stock into Sburb's idea of 'growth'. Its primary purpose is to propagate reality, and it's probably designed to mold you into someone well-suited to that task, regardless of your own desires. Your happiness and personal fulfillment is a secondary concern, at best.

Listen to what Sburb has to say, if you want - but take it with a huge pinch of salt. I doubt it has your best interests at heart.

AG: 8ut what really gets me is this didn't even occur to me until just now, while I was sitting around thinking a8out it. […] AG: That was why the game split us up into two teams. AG: It knew as we came of age, we'd pro8a8ly start killing each other. AG: So it just provided the stage. Red team vs. 8lue. It was so simple! All we had to do was what we were naturally inclined to. It might have worked out 8etter for us.

I don't agree with this take on the teams, either.

My interpretation is pretty much the opposite of Vriska's. I’ve always believed that the game pretended to split the trolls into teams, in order to trick them into joining one single cooperative group. If we assume propagation is Sburb's primary goal, then it must have concluded that this arrangement increased their chances of victory. In other words, the trolls are better together.

Plus, Sburb has never even hinted that the game can or should be played competitively. I think Vriska's just searching for reasons why everything's gone so wrong, and she's fallen back on Alternian conditioning again. Successful trolls kill, so her team must have failed because there weren't enough killings.

[cherubcameron]

popstar!reader x ex boyfriend!rafe where she goes on her first tour and hes in the crowd!? (i dont mind where you take this)

- 🎀🥰

Aaaa!! I’m so glad you asked, this is my favorite topic. Lowkey was writing something like this already but this will just be a different version to it. Sorry this took so long, I had a lot going on. I work a lot so it’s hard for me to make time sometimes. Plus I didn’t know what direction to take this. So sorry if it’s butt cheeks. Also I’m using Sabrina’s music cause I love her 🤭 another note, this doesn’t follow the description I made for girly!popstar reader because this came first. So this is yours anon.

Border: @chilumitos

The anticipation was turning your stomach inside out. You were in your fifth city and should have been accustomed to touring by now. But still, this was different. You were back in Kildare, the fresh ocean air hitting your face, as you stared out into the crowd. You were hidden behind curtains. The nerves were rushing through you.

“It’s been a while, huh?”Mike,one of the boys who danced with you asked, you simply nodded your head. It’d been too long actually. You’d made sure that you played in your hometown. Hoping that it would be enough for one blue eyed boy to come out and see you. But you weren’t sure, the music you made didn’t seem like something he would be into.

“Too long.”

This tour so far was taking a lot out of you. You hadn’t anticipated how much of a demand you became. You’d sold out almost every show that you had listed. It was crazy and the magnitude of it, still couldn’t conclude in your brain.

“Congratulations girl. Seems like you brought out a big crowd. You must have been popular.”

Which was further than the truth, but you laughed at his joke anyway.

“You go up in five!” Ricky, one of the tour managers says. “Get into position people!”

“You ready?”

You nodded, the crowd is loud, unexpectedly. You hadn’t known how many people were going to be here. Your heart was racing, but this was your favorite part.

You waited until it was your cue…

Wheezie had been persistent. She’d been there since the beginning of your journey; quite literally. So she had wanted to come out to one of your shows. She’d asked Ward and Rose, they shared worried glances over at Rafe.

“It’s fine.. it’s not like you’re asking me to go.” Rafe says, but Wheezie has a look on her face that says otherwise.

“Why? She’s my ex girlfriend. That’s weird.” Rafe said but deep down he knew he wanted to go. His heart still beat for you, he just didn’t want to admit to that. He would look soft and he hated looking soft.

“I still have hope for the two of you.” Wheeze admits. Rafe rolls eyes but his heart flutters.

“Hope is for suckers.”

She managed to make him come to your show. A big grin on her face, Sarah managed to weasel her way into seeing you as well. The Cameron siblings never got along well. Wheezie getting along separately which each of them. But somehow you managed to bring them all together.

“Introducing.. the one and only.. Y/N L/N.” You ran out on stage, a cute little smile on your face. Rafes heart leaped as he saw you. He couldn’t believe he was seeing you living your dream.

“Oh I leave quite an impression..”

Your eyes spotted Rafe, halfway through the song. Your heart raced, you hadn’t expected this to happen. Never believed in a million years, you would see those bright blue eyes again. You noticed Wheezie and Sarah in the crowd with him. Your heart swelled even more.

The song finishes, your heart racing as you run of to the other side of the stage. You felt awkwardness trying to built a home in you. But you shook it off with a head shake. The next song was one that you made about him. When you were angry and you weren’t sure how he’d take it.

“I won’t give a fuck about you.”

The song began and you had to start singing once more. You were getting the audience pumped up and you could spot Wheezie and Sarah dancing. Rafe had his arms crossed, his jaw ticking. Great.

“I won’t give a fuck about you!” You sang into the mic then turning it to the crowd. They repeated the words as you did so. You spot Sarah singing it into Rafes face and he rolls his eyes. A giggle you can’t hear over the crowd escapes her lips. Wheezie is smiling up at you and you smile back.

“My cute ass bye bye!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you danced along to your music. Thankfully, it looked like it was apart of the show.—What were the odds, Rafe was here, Wheezie and Sarah made sense. But you don’t know how they managed to drag Rafe along with them. You continue on anyway, you had a show to put on. And you were surprised how amp up everyone was. How many of them knew the lyrics to your song.

This felt so surreal, like you couldn’t believe people here still kept up to date with you.

Rafe had always known you were someone meant for a life bigger than you. So this was no surprise, it stung to know that he was inches away from you. But unable to hold you, kiss you, to be with you. You were finally at your final three songs.

He could tell Wheezie and Sarah were having fun. He hated that he was the sore thumb in the situation. His arms were crossed, not because he didn’t want to be here. But because this wasn’t how he expected things to have gone between the two of you. Things had fallen apart so badly and he didn’t think it was irreversible. He had let things hang in the air like it didn’t matter. When it did.

“You know she’s here for a couple of more days until she leaves again..” Sarah says, her eyes still on you, Rafe slowly turns to her.

“How do you know that?”

Sarah only smiles looking up at him.

You had stopped by one of the local coffee shops the next day, tired from night 1 out of the three shows you were going to do at Kildare. You tapped your fingers gently on the table, your eyes staring at the door. Waiting for someone…

Rafe stepped through the threshold, his eyes immediately going to you. Maybe, sometimes relationships can be rekindled.

“Hi…

[nightingalescall]

“Under the sunlight, his long blonde hair seemed glossy, shiny even as it draped over his shoulders while he towered over you.” That simple sentence changed my brain, and you have no idea. My weakness has always been men with long hair, silky and shiny hair, for most of man, hair is their makeup. Maybe that was what connected me so directly to Zephyr from the beginning, i projected onto him all my preferences in a yandere man ( Long hair, beautiful eyes, extreme loyalty and the urge to always control himself because he knows very well what he is capable of).

The desire to possess, but having to tie ropes to your own hands for fear of yourself is delicious to think about. But leaving that aside, Zhepyr must take great care of his hair of course, but what does it smell like? Is it sweet? He passes on some kind of product, like a saint he has enough money for whatever that world has to offer of hair products. Affectionately letting his hair slide through my fingers, or make an elaborate braid… Ah, what a dream!

┌⁠|⁠o⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠o⁠|⁠┘⁠♪

Literally, same. I have a thing with 2D men having long hair. I don't know why either. They just look so....majestic.

Anyway, have a short story as my response to these questions.

*Can be read regardless of whether or not you're up to date with the main story. Though it is recommended to have at least read the prologue.

"Hah....tired." you sighed and plopped down onto the chair. "Hot too..." You mumbled as you lifted up your veil, allowing yourself a breather.

It was a sunny afternoon and the breeze was pretty much nonexistent. Besides from the windows, there was no other way to ventilate the air within the temple. It felt like a sauna in there.

You had just finished a meeting at the palace regarding some recent economic issues in the kingdom and discussing how to improve certain sectors and increase gross national income. It took all morning before the meeting finally concluded. After such a mentally gruelling session, all you wanted to do was to relax in your room and maybe have some afternoon tea.

But the weather just had to mess with you.

The moment you opened the main door to the temple, you were immediately hit in the face with a gush of hot air. You shut the door and turned back.

Nope. We are NOT doing that.

You rerouted and headed for the garden instead.

There, you found a small gazebo admist the tall aurum trees and other luscious greenery. The decision to make that your resting place for the afternoon was instantaneous.

You stretched in your seat, hearing your bones pop satisfyingly before resting your head on your arms on the table in front of you. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, the earthy scent of the garden penetrating your nostrils.

And a moment of peaceful silence.

...

"Lady (y/n)? You're back." You opened your eyes as Zephyr approached. He took the seat beside you. "Why are you out here?" A hint of amusement in his voice as he looked into your tired eyes and smiled.

"It's way too hot in the temple." You mumbled, watching as Zephyr reached for your veil when it fell back down over your face in the middle of your sentence. He lifted it up and placed it behind your head. "Is that so?" He mumbled absentmindedly as he imitated you, resting his head on his arms and facing you.

Your elbows touched from the closeness.

Neither of you said anything afterwards. Simply basking in the silence and enjoying each other's presence. Zephyr closed his eyes gently as he rested.

He seemed happy.

Through your half-lidded eyes, you couldn't help but stared a bit. His hair was down today which was kinda surprising, considering how hot it was. You expected him to put it up to help beat the heat. That's what you would have done anyway.

His blond strands laid sprawled out on his back and over his shoulders. Some even on the table. Even in this hot weather, his hair looked ever so perfect. Smooth and silky. Not a strand of messy hair in sight.

"..."

You reached for a lock that rested over his shoulders. Grabbing it, you slide your hand down the lock, right until the tip. The hair soft against your palm.

Zephyr's eyes snapped open as he felt the light tug on his hair. He lifted his head from his arms and his eyes went wide. His gaze flickered from your hand grasping his hair to your face before back again.

The thought only occuring to you that you may be overstepping your boundaries a bit when you saw the look of surprise that painted itself over Zephyr's face. You retracted your hand, feeling embarrassment wash over you.

You didn't mean to make him uncomfortable. It was a learnt habit. Often times, Zephyr would play with your hair. Now given, you've never objected to it so he's free to touch it whenever he likes but that doesn't apply to him. You never asked if he minded.

"Sor-"

Before you could even mutter an apology, Zephyr's hand shot towards your wrist, grabbing it firmly.

!

You jumped in your seat at the suddenness of his action.

You felt his grip tighten around your wrist before slowly, he guided your hand back towards him, placing your palm against his cheek. His hand went up to the back of yours as he leaned into your touch.

"Touch me however you want."

What

You were left speechless by his words, the gears in your mind turning, trying to process and dissect its meaning. Silence and anticipation hung between you two as you stared at each other. Your gaze, confused and bewildered, his, firm and determined.

Does that mean he doesn't mind....?

"..."

Carefully, you tangled your fingers into his hair. Zephyr, sensing that you weren't going to pull away, let go of your hand and allowed you to run your fingers through his locks.

You ran your fingers through his hair without encountering any knots.

...I want hair like this.

You looked down at the strand in your hand, feeling envious of its smoothness. Gently rubbing it between your thumb and index finger, you pondered about just how Zephyr keeps his hair like this.

In the midst of your thinking, your hands began instinctively braiding the strand. As the silence between you went on and you worked on the braid, Zephyr scooted closer. He placed a hand on your thigh as he towered over you, gazing at you quietly while observing you work with his hair.

You worked fast, twisting the hair here and there until a simple and neat braid came into be. You held onto the end of the braid, having no tie to secure it, you could only maintain the style by holding on.

You admired it a little more, looking up at his face as you took note of how well it suited him. You let go of the strand and the hair untwisted and lossened.

"..."

I should brings some ties and hairbands next time I get the chance to play with his hair.

You considered the different hairstyles you could try on him.

Hmm...maybe there was one you could quickly try right now.

You reached up both your hands to his hair, one grasping the hair on the left of his head and the other on the right. Then, using your hands as a stand-in for hairbands...

You made two low pigtails.

"Pfft." You couldn't help but let out a stifled laugh at the sight. You let go of his hair.

Yeah, maybe not that one.

"Sorry." You said, covering your mouth with your hand and keeping your head low, trying to hide the smile on your face.

Just then, you felt Zephyr pull you into him, causing you to crash into his chest.

"Woah!"

You pressed your hands against his body as you pushed yourself up, finding back your balance. Zephyr wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly as he pressed his cheek on the top of your head. A pleasant scent wafted from his hair and into your nose.

It smelled lemony and refreshing with a hint of sweetness to it. Peach, perhaps? Peach lemonade?

"Zephyr?"

You raised an eyebrow at his behaviour. You lifted your head up and you locked eyes with him.

Zephyr's smile was soft and tender. The corners of his eyes lifted alongside his smile as he looked at you. In his eyes, you saw thousand of emotions swirl about. Emotions that you couldn't quite decipher. All you knew was that his gaze was warm (and no, you weren't saying that because it was a hot day.)

His hand went from behind your back to your face, cupping your cheek as you continued to look at him with your puzzled expression.

He sighed blissfully.

"I'm so happy God gave you to me."

~✟~

And scene! That was fun to write! It can be kinda stressful for me to write such a lore heavy story since there's a lot to keep track of and for the Messiah to deal with so much drama I'm making happen in Ebreau so it was a good break for both of us! Just a nice, light-hearted afternoon with a certain saint., don't you agree? You want more of these kind of quality time together with me Zephyr, right, Messiah?

N̴̢̢͑͘͠e̸͎͚͇̓͐̚v̵̙̒̿͌͜e̵̠͚̽̓̈́r̸͙̦̟͒̐͘ s̸̢̝͖͌̈́͆t̸͔͕̙̓͌͌o̸͉͓̽͒͒p̴͓̦͖̓̓͝ t̵̘͚͙͋̓a̴̢̟͖̽̓͝l̵̙͖̪͊͐͒k̸͍͎͛̔̐͜ḯ̵̡͓͉͛̕n̸͚͙͚̔̈́̽g̴͉̝͍̿͛̿ t̵͓̻͎͛̒̕o̸̟͕͎̓̀̕ m̵̫̙̦̿̕e̸̙̻͔͊̾Thanks for reading! <3

[freckles-a-constellation]

The Doctor is a tragic character in the best Greek tragedy tradition.

So y'all know how the most common driving factor for intelligence to develop in species is if they're social? (Octopi aren't very social but let's ignore that real quick, the Doctor's a vertebrate anyway so invertebrate intelligence can probably be dismissed as irrelevant) Because after a point, more intelligence isn't really needed to avoid danger or gather food. But more intelligence does make it possible to communicate more efficiently, form more complex social bonds, eventually develop culture. Cue why social species tend to be more intelligent than solitary ones of otherwise comparable lifestyle. And cue why humanity is the way it is.

Now look at Gallifreyans. (I am purposefully ignoring the Timeless Child thing bc I don't rlly believe it and besides, even assuming it's true, The Doctor is similar enough to Gallifreyans to have flawlessly believed himself/themselves/herself to be one for 13+ regenerations, so anything that can be concluded to be true from analysis of Gallifreyans has good basis to be presumed true about the Doctor, whatever the fuck semantics you wanna use) So, Gallifreyans. A species much more advanced than according to DW canon humanity will ever be. More intelligent than humanity. High levels of education and not on the basis of private tutoring. Lives in cities. Has complex language and technology capable of instantly translating pretty much any language of any other species to be understandable to them. (Hell the TARDIS consistently still translates shit to English for the companions while they're outside it.) Complex social structure. That's one fucking social species.

And it gets better. The TARDIS is meant to be operated by a team of six. And even if River was joking about six, it's still clear that it should at least be more than one. Compare the Doctor steering the TARDIS alone to when he was with Susan. I mean, even those two looked like they could use an extra hand. Have you ever seen a human private use vehicle designed with 2+ pilots in mind? Definitely a species more social than humanity.

And the telepathy thing? Hello? Insanely, mind-boggingly social species.

Now take a being this fundamentally social and do something to them so that they see no recourse other than to take one (1) same-species (as far as he was aware disclaimer ig) companion, steal a ship they have little to no clue how to pilot, leave everything and everyone they've ever known and run without ever stopping for breath, no matter how much they miss home, no matter if it hurts. (And I do believe something must have happened to make him run like that, since the beggining, way before the Time War) Have them be scorned, judged, punished, mistreated and rejected by their species, again and again, for ages. Have them love, again and again, only to always lose everyone they've cared about, through abandonment or death. Have them essentially be forced to exterminate their whole species and believe themselves to be the last of their kind, only to be proven wrong by the whole Master situation, which alright is better, but also in some ways is worse. Have them, once again, form deep bonds with companions and once again lose all of them in various varyingly tragic ways until they have no hope left that anyone can ever truly stay for any amount of time even close to satisfactory, that love can for them end in anything but loss and pain. And they can't even avoid love altogether in an effort to spare themselves the inevitable agony of losing loved ones, because they're incapable of not growing to care for those around them. And they can't be without company either, because their sanity goes straight to hell in a handbasket within like,, 5 minutes of being alone.

Let me remind you this is not a human we're talking about. It's a member of a species much more inherently social than humanity. My point?

The Doctor is literally more lonely than the human brain can comprehend.

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

I see you doing BEAUTIFUL soul soothing slice of life Zack stuff.

I ask for Zack first because..I'm weird but please do feel free to include the firsts and HOJO!, BECAUSE I've never seen anyone do hojo love, it's wild!

What,would zack do for his lover having a migraine? How would he comfort/cuddle/spoil...

Cook special food? Pet names? Home remedies?

THANK YOU! LMAO I’ve been told I’m the most down bad individual people have met due to my love of Hojo. 10/10 would tie that man to the cross and do my thing with him.

I love this ask cause I’m prone to migraines. I have also tortured myself trying to make them stop. I lock myself in the closet to get away from any sounds and light these days. Good god I’m probably too eager to write Hojo’s.

____________________________________________

Zack “put em in a pack” Fair

I’m certain you have to thoroughly explain what a migraine is to him. The first time you said you had a migraine he continued doing everything at his usual “Zack Volume” fuckin loud. Shiva bless his heart but he lacks brain cells. You told him to quiet down and now he won’t stop whispering everything, that man will whisper in uppercase from the other room.

Now that he understands, he must make a routine for you. Yes yes, that man headed straight to Moogle Search to look up home remedies. It would turn into Zack’s first crime against humanity. Making you a cup of turmeric and ginger based tea, accompanied by an aftertaste so foul you weren’t sure you wanted to even ask what he put in it. As hard as you try, your face says it all and now he’s got the sad puppy eyes, “but baby I really tried.” In that cute pouty voice of his, you know the one he’s still whispering. Please let him know you appreciate the effort but not the attempt at murder.

If there is any medicine that helps relive your pain he’ll have it on hand. He even keeps a supply at his own home, going as far as to carry it around when you’re together because Zack knows they randomly sprout up. He’s learned “the squint” as he calls it. Claiming whenever a migraine is creeping in you start squinting at everything. Awn, cute boy is catching on to the cues. After you tell him about visual impairment/eye pain that can accompany your migraines he’s back on the internet finding ways to relive that too. (Pls Zack it’s not gonna help just cuddle)

After months of trying numerous concoctions Zack would attempt to make you once again, Shiva bless his heart. Despite you telling him in advance, he finally concludes these do not help and he can't really do much about it, it made him feel a bit useless. “ ‘cause if I can’t help my baby, what am I doing?” Telling Zack that everything else he does is perfect when he’s trying to make you feel better. He provides you lots of cuddles, only leaving the bed when he’s certain you’re asleep, though it’s only for necessities. Zack very much prefers to keep you against him as long as humanly possible. You’re his "little kitty", you know the rules with that. If the cat lays on you, you do not move.

Makes sure to turn off any lights, closing all of the curtains/blinds to keep as much light out as possible. Cooking is questionable with him but he can make some of your favorite snacks as long as they’re simple. Anything that he can get you from the store? He’s going to make sure it’s in your possession, even if he has to go completely out of his way to get whatever you want. Nearly every time Zack goes out to get snacks/favorite foods, he brings back a plushie. You have such a large army of plushies that you have to beg him to stop bringing them. Gaia, he even brought you a chibi Zack for when he’s on missions. (You love it, how could you not)

Zack also recognizes sometimes migraines make you nauseous, even causing you to vomit at times. No matter, it doesn’t bother him at all. He’s going to make sure your hair is out of the way, clean you back up, carry you to bed and as you sleep, he’s looking at more home remedies. One thing I can imagine him able to cook is a few types of soups Angeal taught him, to at least get something light on your stomach.

Sephiroth- pillow fort part 2? (he wasn’t allowed much time to be a kid, so he enjoys doing childish activities with you)

This is the man for the job, can’t get your surroundings dark enough? Sephiroth shall begin the construction. He now realizes why you have a million pillows, even taking the pillows and cushions off of your couch to make it more comfortable. Layering blankets and sheets to ensure it’s completely dark in there. He’s ready for his cat house to cuddle you. Stays awake until you fall asleep, it's not really anything new, he's just significantly more adamant about it when you aren't feeling well. Seems a bit sad when you take his fort down due to his "hard work and dedication." It's okay, he knows it can't stay up forever, he'll be able to build another soon.

You’re already overly spoiled by Sephiroth, to which he’d say “there’s never a such thing as too much for you.” He's going to try and find you the best doctors around, not affiliated with Shinra of course. He doesn't want them coming anywhere near you. He knows medicine won't always help, but you know what does? His dick. His outstanding ability to take care of you. Forehead kisses for days. Will scoop you in his lap, holding you until you start dozing off. I don't think this one can cook either, but he'll attempt making your favorite comfort foods until he cooks it exactly to your liking. "nothing less than perfection for you".

He'll go out of his way to buy blackout curtains for his own home. Luckily Sephiroth is extremely quiet, half of the time you don't even know when he arrives. It's like he materializes out of thin air. Due to this you don't have to really ever worry about loud sounds. Finding his voice to be soothing you ask him to read to you until you fall asleep. He's a bit awkward about it at first, but he gets use to it and comes to love doing so.

Angeal (the healer)

Oh yea, you're getting super spoiled by this one. He's putting on his "best chef" apron and getting to work. Not before he tucks you into bed, kissing your forehead and tucking you in, he'll even fluff the pillows. If you like having background sound or really are in the mood to watch something, he has memorized shows/movies that have a minimal amount of ungodly bright scenes. Even turns the brightness down all the way, going as far to adjust the color and of course lowering the volume.

Always asks what kind of food you think your stomach can handle just in case it's one of those nausea inducing migraines. Can make anything you ask or he'll find recipes that are supposed to accommodate your migraines. He's not sure if the home remedies work, but at least you're always happy with each meal he makes you.

Once you're fed and comfortable, Angeal is on his way to wrap you up in his arms. Loves it when you climb on him and rest your head against his chest because you told him his "heartbeat makes me feel better." He's read in an article that pressure points can help alleviate migraines. He has no clue which pressure points to target so he's going to give you a full body massage in hopes that you feel better. hands of god you'll be feeling something alright

Also goes out of his way to buy blackout curtains or anything that may help him keep his home dark when the light is too much. Buys those little motion lights that are dim so when you walk into a room you'll be able to see without it feeling like a flashbang. Angeal doesn't make too much noise either so sound is also not a problem with him. Despite that he gives you a hushed apology any time he thinks he did something too loud.

Genesis (please don't recite Loveless, jk he'd annoy me but i'd love it)

Recites Loveless to you in a hushed tone as you fall asleep on his chest. Genesis is more than willing to read any piece of literature you want, only if you make a special request. He's always going to pull out Loveless by default.

Runs a bath for you, adding a eucalyptus based epsom salt and bubbles to help you relax in hopes to ease some of that tension.(something with a soft scent as strong smells can be too much). "Of course he's aware of your sensitivity to light, in turn lighting a couple of candles to add his romantic flare. He's taking these baths with you, without a doubt. Massaging your back and gently doing the same for your neck. He has an experts touch, that man will make you melt like butter. Loves soaking with you pressed against him, dries you off and tucks you into bed.

This one is also a cook, maybe not as good as Angeal, but definitely not as bad as Sephiroth. Knows your favorite comfort foods and will go out of his way to make it for you as you hide in bed.

Manages to find the best medicine. You're surprised it actually helps. After asking where Genesis got it from you find out he broke into Hojo's lab after a discussion between the two about what was the best treatment for a migraine. Says he stole them because he didn't want the medicine altered as most of his medicines are.

Hojo (my eyes are so far back in my head right now, im excited)

The first time you stumbled into his lab, all but screaming at him to cut of the lights he just stares at you like a madman. "Do you not seeing me working?" I mean, sure you did, once your eyes finally adjust you can see something or someone(????) cut open on a surgical table. Great, migraine increases tenfold.

When he finally finished whatever absurd thing he was doing to that poor carcass he comes to examine you. Maybe you should have gone home instead. Shining that goofy fuckin flashlight directly in your eyes. You tried slapping it out of his hands to which he rolls his eyes as you completely miss his hand stating that "it's a pupil test, I have to check for abnormalities." to which you can't help but tell Hojo that he is the only abnormality.

Injects you with god knows what, but hey, the migraine surprisingly vanished. The next time you come into his lab due to a migraine, he immediately takes into account that you were just here a few days ago over the same thing. Once again taking you back through those oh so annoying examinations before prescribing you some pills. When you question what the pills were he chuckles, telling you in a condescending tone that "you wouldn't remember how to say it even if you tried." With that he tells you to come back after all pills are gone so he can see how you're doing.

Your next visit with Hojo will teach you to never tell him something is wrong with you again. When you began taking the medicine the migraines were easing up, but now it's like they're worse. This time he gives you a different type of medicine, now you're just sleepy. All will be just fine, when you wake up you won't even know he's been poking around your brain.

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

I’m a bit sad I forgot to put in the random bouts of pure confusion migraines can put you through. I’ll never forget grabbing my airpods and I was pretty certain it was a bar of soap. It wasn’t. I don’t even know how I thought something that small was soap, or how I tried to wash my hands for so long with them

[plusvanity]

Yesterday, I wanted to say that people who blocked me did the wiser thing, but today, I want to touch on a recent issue, a hugely (intentionally) misinterpreted and degrading problem.

The controversies that people started to spread about me literally make me sick to the stomach.

They don't give a fuck about my countless explanations of how this ship is my comfort ship, designed to help me heal from severe abuse, self hatred, body dysmorphia, depression and anxiety.

I try to switch from unhealthy coping mechanisms to something that is both productive, helpful and most of all, harmless (because it's imaginary).

They felt the need to turn something that I created as my own personal fictive escape into a gross sadomasochistic, abusive and extremely toxic 'excuse' for 'why is this ship and not that?'. My guts twist for seeing such cruel assumptions when I have one thing that makes me happy (a story, a healthy narrative) viciously turned into a gruesome scenario that is not what it is at all.

The fact that they accuse me of shipping fair-skinned, blonde people is also the biggest hypocrisy that they could come up with when they themselves forget that Øystein's natural hair is blond and his eyes are blue in their own double-standard ship.

The fact that accuse me of romanticizing self-harm while they themselves 'like' (I have proofs) and approve art of EuroDead self-destructive romanticism shows their duplicitous and impostor nature. This is not to be taken as an insult, but an obvious fact concluded by their behavior.

My ship has little to do with physical looks and everything else to do with the in-depth psychology. It's not me, PlusVanity who says that there's a gigantic overlap between highly-autistic traits and trauma response (in personality disorders), it's Freud, Jung, Lacan's teachings and many other's scholars, neurologists and psychiatrists came to this conclusion many many years before you and I were even born. If you, dearly-opinionated friend, think that you can prove to these honorable psychoanalytical figures (and me, of course) otherwise with credible and well-documented research and not your 'I don't like that just because' synthetic opinion, I will gladly listen to what you have to bring up. I am well-versed in the philosophical and psychological domain, and I can provide solid arguments to everything I claim.

It's more than just unfair to point the finger at me, accusing me of a ludicrous sadomasochistic and 'subliminal racial element' in my art just to satisfy your late frustration with an ' good-enough explanation' for something that you never even bothered to look into because otherwise you would know that you are wrong. I'm not spiteful, I'm just pointing your flaws in logic as straightforwardly and inconsiderable as you seem to point mine, but it's not like you will actually try to understand what I'm saying because this must imply 'admitting defeat' and a kick in the ego, so you don't even bother with my transparent explanations. That's alright.

This message is for the people who are open and mature enough to read the motive behind my art and writing. This monologue is not for the ones who blindly accuse me of horrible things or a hidden agenda that I don't have or try to promote.

If you think that you know better than me, you simply don't. Why might that be? Because I am the author, because you don't think with my brain and you have no access to what I stand for, other than my words and actions and neither my words or actions stood for any type of abuse or political extremism.

You also put words into my mouth by calling me a fan of Varg, when I'm most certainly not, but I mean you hate me, of course you will say such things. Everyone who's following me knows that I not only hate Varg, but mock him daily for his spiteful persona.

I do not engage in any drama, I am not here to fight anyone.

I will only have civilized conversations (if openness exists). I am here to be and share with my friends the one thing that makes me happy. To subjugate me for simply having a different view than yours is tyranny and black and white extremism.

Pairing real people is morally bad, but this includes all real people. Not just Varg and Pelle, but Øystein and Pelle too. Doesn't sound fair now, does it? I understand why.

Anyone is free to believe anything, but a conspiratorial opinion will never compare to the ultimate truth that only the author can provide.

Please block me if you wish for. This is a far more mature approach than lurking here or sending hate. I hope this is constructive.

To sum it up, I'm beyond hate and ingoing frustration. I will gladly wish my late-proclaimed haters a wonderful day even if they roll their eyes. 🖤

You cannot change options, you can only provide your insight.

Be kind, be open, be alright 🖤

I wish this post can be shared so a lot of people can read this 🙏

[aquilapolariz]

memento mori (trafalgar law x reader)

Summary: You can’t help but notice Law’s obsession with death.

Notes/Warnings: Spoilers for Law’s background, headcanon HEAVY, happens right after Punk Hazard

Word Count: 1.6k | Read below the cut or on Ao3 here!

“I’ll be damned,” you started, “so Luffy really can rope anyone into his schemes. Even a Warlord.” You walked over to him, finding a spot by his side aboard the Thousand Sunny. “Ah, excuse me, ex-warlord.”

He looked at you in the corner of his eye, his head refusing to turn away from the shore Punk Hazard. “It’s out of necessity,” Law mumbled.

“My captain wants the same thing you want- necessity and coincidence are all you need.”

Law grasped his sword, holding it tight, trying to seek some comfort. “It’s only the second time running into you Strawhats, but both those times have been…chaotic. Feels like a little more than a coincidence.”

You think back to Saobody and seeing Law for the first time in the flesh; he was handsome, cocky, and intriguing. The holder of the Opu Opu no Mi, and a doctor no less- the perfect complement to his devil fruit, you noted.

Power gravitates to power. Luffy seemed to pull in both Eustass Kidd and Trafalgar Law when they fought off the Navy outside the Celestial Dragon’s auction house.

Intellect gravitates to intellect. As the Strawhat’s Devil fruit researcher, you knew that the Opu Opu no Mi was one of the most versatile fruits to exist. As Law fought, you observed. With just one word he established a room and stood in the same spot in order to fight, separating people’s limbs from their bodies. Why is he tossing some Navy guy’s head in his hand like a baseball? What a weird guy. You laughed to yourself, letting the three supernovas effortlessly take out the marines.

A long two years later, aboard the Sunny, and Law looked as handsome as ever. But his weariness was revealed in his constant scowl. He was tired, seemingly ready to throw his life away. Even the setting sun, fiery and blazing, couldn’t seem to melt the ice in his cold eyes.

“Must be fate then,” you concluded. Rather, intervention for Law’s state of mind in the form of your crew.

Your attentive gaze was always noticed by his own, even at Saobody. You looked at him with curiosity as if you could read his every thought, as if you desperately wanted to. If this was a battle of observation and wit, then so be it. Law was a complex man, and you would love to pick apart his brain, and as much as he was loath to admit, he would love to pick apart yours.

“Chopper told me you healed the kids from Caesar’s drug. Thank you,” you said kindly as the Sunny drifted away from Punk Hazard, the children and the Marines waving goodbye.

“You shouldn’t thank me. They still have to go through painful treatment,” Law said.

“So the Opu Opu no Mi has limits?”

“If I could cure everything, I would. Those children have been consistently consuming that drug for over a year. It’s part of their bloodstream at this point. They’ll have to deal with withdrawals, their abnormal body sizes, reintegrating back into society, and any residual effects we don’t know about.”

You breathed in, savoring the salty air that you missed during the chaos at Punk Hazard. “They will suffer, true. But at least…it’ll be a little less than it was before. Their families have missed them.”

Law gritted his teeth. He felt ashamed, complicit in those children’s pain for so long. How dare he call himself a doctor?

“Why do you, as a doctor, have the word ‘death’ on your hand?” Your hand shot out to grab his wrist. You brought it close to your face, studying his tattoo. “A little contradictory for someone who seems to take his job seriously.”

“It’s a memento mori of sorts,” he replied vaguely. Your hand on his sent unfamiliar- and unwanted- shivers up his spine.

“A reminder of mortality, huh?” Law nodded, impressed.

He nodded, “It’s also plastered on the side of my submarine.” It’s been a while since he’s seen his trusty yellow vessel, his Jolly Roger painted black next to the word “DEATH,” just like his own tattoos.

“That I believe. Wait, you have a submarine?” Law noticed your eyes light up as they looked at him.

“Yeah, the Polar Tang.”

You hummed, imagining how wondrous it would be to see the depths of the ocean every single day at sea. “Did you become a surgeon before or after eating your devil fruit?”

“After, I guess.” He called himself a surgeon ever since he extracted White Lead Disease from his own body. A doctor since the age of twelve, only by necessity.

“You guess?” You questioned.

“I guess,” Law smirked.

“You said your devil fruit has limits…?”

“Of course, it can only do so much.”

“I think…I get it now.”

Law raised an eyebrow.

“With your fruit, you are the perfect doctor. But even then…” Your eyes traced the letters on Law’s fingers.

He slowly took his hand out of your grasp. “People still die,” he said.

“Doctors know death better than anyone, huh?” You said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes widened. After being constantly surrounded by idiots, being in your presence was refreshing, enjoyable even. “Did your research, it seems.”

You shook your head. “Research alone wouldn’t tell me something like that. Plus, I’m sure I’m missing some details.”

And you were. Law knows Death all too well. Death from sickness. His sister, his parents. Death from murder. Corazon. Death by his own hand. The hundreds of pirates whose hearts he gave away to the Navy. The death he hopes to deliver to Doflamingo. To stray away from death would be to stray away from his identity, so clearly conveyed in the ink on his fingers.

“My tattoos constantly remind me of what I’m trying to get my patients to avoid. Sure, it’s a memento mori, but it’s not only for my own sake. It’s for everyone’s, especially the lives I hold in my hand, both as a captain and a doctor.”

No one ever questioned the presence of his tattoos, his fascination with death. Many assumed he just wanted to be an edgy doctor-pirate, living up to his unsettling name of Surgeon of Death. But those inquisitive eyes of yours seemed to see right through him, down to the depths of his very being, past all of those preconceived notions. You seemed to hang onto every word he said, urgently and desperately, making him feel like he was the only person in the world when you spoke to him.

“It’s just that,” he felt his breath catch in his throat, “it’s always a good thing to remind ourselves that we’re not immortal. Even if I help some live longer, it’s only just that. Death is the one thing I can guarantee everyone- I can’t promise life.”

The fiery sunlight danced upon the waters of the ocean, closer than ever to melting away Law’s icy gaze.

“So…how’d you end up a surgeon?”

“My father was one,” he said dismissively, “and I just happened to eat the perfect devil fruit for that line of work.”

“A mighty coincidence,” you noted amusedly, well-aware that Law wasn’t telling you everything.

And Law, too, was aware that you could see that.

“How’d someone as observant as you end up on a crew of idiots?”

You shrugged. “They’re not all idiots though,” you said, glancing at Franky tinkering with his latest device as Robin watched.

“Could join my crew instead.” Law cringed at his own words as soon as they left his mouth. Would he even be alive when all the dust has settled in Dressrosa? What would be the point of you joining his crew if he wasn’t there? But his body and mind, under stress and anticipation since Luffy arrived on Punk Hazard, knew he needed someone like you, now more than ever. And so he spoke it without a thought.

How quickly curiosity gravitates to curiosity.

You rolled your eyes. “Gotta give me something worth leaving this for,” you gestured broadly at the Sunny.

“Like I said, I have a submarine. It’s a whole other world down there.”

“You’ve probably seen things that no pirate has ever even dreamed of seeing, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s like Fishman Island, multiplied by a thousand.”

“Fishman Island really was beautiful…I would like to visit your Polar Tang one day. As a visitor,” you clarified. “There’s a reason I’m on this crew- everyone helps each other to live life to the absolute fullest.” A sting of jealousy pierces his heart as Law watches you look at your crew fondly, with all the love in the world. He feels his heart skip a beat despite your expected rejection to join his crew. You sighed. “Law, it’s like you said. Death is sure to happen but…in the meantime, we can’t forget to live.”

But how could he do that when he had a soul to avenge? Corazon’s soul- a death that weighed heavy on his heart, one that he swore to never forget.

“To live?” He asked, his voice shaky as veins in his hands started to feel like pins and needles.

“To live is to laugh…is to cry, to love, to feel.” You tore your eyes away from the crew to look at the broken man before you. “It’s to be free.”

Those words sounded oddly familiar. Corazon’s last words echoed in Law’s mind: “You are now…truly free.” Looking at you, the ice in his eyes started to thaw. With every blink, the details in your face were becoming blurry, the Sunny feeling like it came to a full stop.

A wave of nostalgia washed over Law as he stared at his tattooed fingers. As he squinted at them, the five letters on each finger, spelling out the word DEATH, started to blur. In his vision, those same letters started to waver, each one morphing into entirely new letters. With you in his periphery, he mumbled out the new word that it formed:

“Alive.”

~bonus:

“…Is this…how (Y/N) flirts?” Usopp asked Nami as they hid behind the tangerine trees.

“Through an interrogation? Yeah, seems about right.”

“Hey, what are you guys whispering abo-?” Luffy said.

Nami pulled him behind the tangerine tree. “Shhh!”

“Why does Tra-guy seem to only like talking to (Y/N)?” Luffy frowned.

“Because-“

“Could join my crew,” Law said to you in the distance.

“OH SO HE’S TRYING TO STEAL THEM FROM THE CREW, GUM-GUM ELEPHANT GUN!!!!!!!”

Usopp and Nami threw themselves onto their captain to prevent him from transforming, “LUFFY NOOOOOOOO.”

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Eye of The Storm ⛈| Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place during the events of Shadow & Bone S2

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Crows x Squaller/Saint!Reader (platonic), Kaz Brekker x reader (slight/eventual)

Content Warnings: fighting, blood, profanity, cannon divergence | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.9k

Requested 📨: yes/no

Premise: As the Crows make their way back to the Slate following their climatic dethronement of Pekka Rollins, they are ambushed by his supporters with no plan of action to escape. As they slowly accept their fate, what was once a clear night is rained upon with lightning and thunder in its wake. Having beat the odds of meeting one living Saint in their lifetime, the Crows are stunned when their savior, a player in the ever unfolding drama in Ravka, is the legend in stories of restoring life in the world when all hope was lost.

Note: although the Saint name I give is not Y/n, it’s still a reader insert and explains more at the end (it’s not an OC) also I know Zoya is called Sankta Zoya of the Storm but I have yet to get to her arc so for this the reader has powers equivalent to her

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The sirens had finally seized, concluding the hysteria in the streets of Ketterdam once it was revealed the Firebox outbreak was a hoax. Constructed by none other than the Bastard of the Barrel and his thieves amongst men, the Crows. After years of heated tension, and guided vengeance, against Pekka Rollins, Kaz Brekker succeeded in his plans of putting down the Lion that had ruined his life. Constant mental torture as he manuevered his players on their chestboard now able to rest.

“Where were you?” His voice was raspy, face still painted with his blood from the beating as he addressed Inej when she appeared from the shadows. They had been making their way back to the Slat. Nina, Wylan, and Jesper were flanked beside him, the dimly lit street light shining down on the group. Inej had been the only one not accounted for, flooding Kaz with anxiety mixed with anger that she strayed from the plan.

“I--.”

A gloved hand came up, stopping her. “Actually, I’d rather not hear what you have to say.” he wanted to shout. Reprimand her for being so foolish. Voice how her actions could’ve gotten her or one of them hurt because they had no idea where she was.

Despite these desires, the pain in Kaz’s body was too much and he was in need of a strong drink. Inej narrowed her eyes, but the man brushed past her leaving the others to send her looks of sympathy. Falling in step, the group followed behind Kaz, making note of how empty the streets were at that time of night. It was eerie. Yeah they may have caused an uproar with their little stunt, but they assumed there’d still be people out and about.

Dance halls and clubs are empty. The markets closed for business. Not a soul in sight. Wylan was the first to speak, “I’ve never seen it this quiet.”

“Very odd if I must say,” Jesper agreed, unconsciously letting his hands fall to where his guns strapped to his belt. His intuition was picking at his brain at the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s plotting now that Pekka is gone,” Inej made note of their surroundings. They were only a block from the Slat. Soon they’d be in the comfort of their home, able to bask in the relief they pulled their task off. A warm cup of tea by the fireplace before it came time for bed. Inej was looking forward to it.

But unfortunately, fate had other plans.

Nina suddenly froze, “Stop,” all movement seized, heads turning to the heartrender. Unease consumed them as they took in the sudden paleness of her appearance. “I hear heartbeats.” There was a subtle gulp, the woman adding in a low tone, “a lot of heartbeats.”

Tensing, they were met with the sounds of footsteps approaching from every angle. Inej pulled out her knives, as did Jesper with his guns. Wylan clutched his satchel to his chest, thinking of what he could use to help them out of this situation, though the odds were not looking good. Meanwhile, Kaz reversed his steps while the others spun around, the Crows forming a circle with their backs to one another, Kaz keeping space between him and Jesper. Allowing them a full view of the square.

They watched the herd of men step into the light. Revealing themselves with menacing eyes filled with vengeance. Kaz tensed, recognizing them as Pekka’s men.

Well the ones still loyal to the King of the Barrel. Several had already pledged their support to Kaz or took the chance to ditch town while they had the opportunity. Yet, here was a group of at least twelve, likely part of Pekka’s inner circle who’ve taken the actions of Kaz more personally. Those who refused to kneel. The young criminal should’ve known better than to expect a sudden shift in power would come easily to him.

“We have no business with you, gentlemen,” Kaz spoke with a level of calm that surprised even him. Deep down he was consumed with nerves seeing he and the Crows were severely outnumbered.

“Oh, but we do,” a gruff voice replied. Kaz’s eyes drifted to the owner, who’s hand mavuevered over his gun. “See, some of us are not too pleased with your little show tonight, Brekker. And we’ll be damned before claiming you as the King of the city.”

Jesper tilts his head slightly, whispering under his breath, “What do we do, boss?” Beside him Wylan was visibly freaking out. Nina raised her hands, ready to counter any attacks while Inej tightened the grip of her knives.

“This is it,” Kaz thought, clutching onto his cane. No ideas surfaced to help them escape. Accepting his time was up. Though he was going to fight for his Crows, the Bastard of the Barrel was ready to come to terms with his fate.

But before anyone could make the first room, a crack of lightning followed by its booming thunder shook the ground. Several flinched, including the crows, some of the Dime Lions stumbling by how close and sudden the element was to them. Rainfall began to pour down the once clear sky. Dark clouds covering the stars and skies.

The rain was thick, drenching everyone from head to toe. Their clothes became heavy. Had it not been for the skewing of their visibility, making them struggle to see where they were, they’d be annoyed by their state. But there were more important things at stake.

The storm made it hard to see. Only getting a glimpse of shapes and figures when flashes of lightning in the near distance hit the earth. Coupled with its thunder. Kaz barely could make out the enemy, bringing his cane up for any sudden attacks.

“What’s happening?” Wylan shouted, gurgling when the water hit mouth. “What do we do?”

“I-I--,” Kaz stuttered, the feeling of nausea swarming him at the cold, wet, rain hitting his face. It brought him back to the worst days of his life. Floating on top of cold, wet, bodies in the harbour, begging the Saints to save him. The man wanted to crawl away and hide. Yet the fear of not knowing what waited for them when the rain stopped kept him from falling to his knees in a panic.

“Hey! You there!” the same man from before shouted, Kaz squinting his eyes to see him raise his gun only to be thrown back by an invisible force of wind. His partner beside him went down next, though what hit him appeared to be a beam of light.

Kinda like a lightning bolt.

“What the hell was that?!” Inej shouted over the thunder.

‘A Squaller?’ Kaz thought to himself, watching another bout of wind sweep his oncoming attacker off their feet. He had not heard of another Grisha roaming the streets of Ketterdam. Surely if a squaller were inhabiting the area he’d know.

Using the butt of his cane Kaz knocked him out unconsious. When he glanced back up, his eyes landed on a cloaked figure standing on the roof of a nearby building. The rain made it impossible to make out their face. But judging by the way they moved their hands, and the fact his enemies were being bombarded by gusts of air, their savior was in fact an Ethereaki.

But what kind exactly?

At first Kaz believed they had to be a Squaller due to the wind. Yet, he then witnessed the rain shift direction, and water from a puddle shoot up to hit a man about to attack Wylan. A Tidemaker would better fit that description, however Kaz wasn’t aware of a Grisha able to control both air and water.

“I don’t know,” Jesper responded, shooting at an assailant he saw racing toward them, “But I’ve never been so happy for a thunderstorm as I am now.” At that moment Kaz realized nobody else noticed the mysterious person on the roof. His attention turned to Jesper beside him, oblivious to the help he was getting from a fellow Grisha. Turning back to the roof, expecting to see the cloaked individual, but they were gone.

As the fight commenced the storm ensued. Thunder overpowering the sound of pelting rain and gunshots. The Crows fought for their lives as the number of Dime Lions against them decreased. Nina managed to incapacitate several as did Jesper and Inej. The fight came to a climatic end with the last one standing was, quite, literally, hit with a lightning bolt causing the Crows to freeze where they stood.

Smoke filled the space, and when it cleared they were met with the mysterious being. Rain pelting down on them, however they seemed to pay no mind. As though it were a natural occurrence. It was still hard to see them. The streetlight candles had been blown out from the rain and wind, and the moon was covered by the clouds. Both those combinations obscured the face of their savior.

Nina raised her hands, ready to defend the group but Kaz motioned for her to stop, causing confusion amongst the rest. Who was this person and what did they want? And why was Kaz not doing anything?

“Well,” their voice, a feminine one at that, breached the once silent square. “That was entertaining if I’m being honest. Been a while since I’ve squabbled with angsty men,” she chucked, “but I was in dire need of practice.” Now hearing the woman speak clearly, they were able to identify her Ravkan accent. For Nina, her heart nearly stopped.

“I know that voice.” she felt the eyes of everyone, including the woman, on her. Hands lowering to her side, Nina's face etched into pure astonishment. Adding more confusion to the group who were at a loss of who this woman was.

“Oh!” The woman chuckled, not commenting on Nina’s words, “Apologies for the storm, let me just--,” they watched in stunned silence as her right hand rose, displaying a motion before the rain slowed and stopped altogether. Then with two fingers, she waved them around causing the clouds above to dissaperate, allowing the moon to shine down.

“Did she just--.” Jesper whispered to Inej, who’s expression resembled that of witnessing a miracle. “Can squallers summon thunderstorms? I thought that was a myth.”

Inej blinked rapidly, voice so low the others barely made out her reply. Tone in absolute awe, “Only one can.”

“One?” Kaz repeated, feeling a wave of unease beneath his skin.

Water from puddles splashed as the woman walked forward, stepping into the ray of light. The Crows, now able to see her fully, were greeted with her (y/h/c) hair and bearing dazzling grey eyes like the storm clouds she’d summoned. She appeared to be slightly older than the group, possibly by a few years. Then again Grisha were known to age slower than regular folk. For all they know she could be in her 50s. Look at the Darkling, who passed as a man in his early 40s to the naked eye but had lived for nearly 400 years.

Adorned in a deep grey kefta, the white and blue embroidery etched on resembled lightning bolts along with tiny drops of rain. It was unlike any kefta the Grisha wore. Those in the Ravka’s Second Army, with the exception of the Darkling, wore certain colored keftas and embroideries to signify their order. But to the knowledge of the Crows, no Grisha wore grey.

“Saints,” Nina gasped, jaw dropping slightly, causing the woman to smirk.

“Now, now,” she playfully tsked, “I’m not above swearing, but considering that applies to me….” her smirk never faltered, “I’m sure you can understand.”

Jesper’s head spun, looking between his comrades to see they were reacting the same way, “I’m sorry, are you saying that you’re--.”

Nina beat him to it, “Sankta Imber of the Drought.” Inej gasped, as did Wylan. The former repeated the name in wonder, falling to her knees in respect, “Sankta Imber….”

Kaz tightened his grip on his cane, mind racing to remember the tale behind the name. Who’s story was passed down from generation to generation for centuries. Who, like the Darkling and the Sun Summoner, was said to be either myth or once lived but suspected of perishing long ago.

Legends say that Sankta Imber of the Drought had been born in the century following the creation of the Fold. A farmer's daughter in the region of East Ravka, her family lived through the period where the country was stricken with a severe drought lasting over a hundred years, beginning not long after the Black Heretic disappeared. With no rain bringing water to the crops came a deadly famine. Hundreds of people and animals were lost, not only due to starvation and dehydration, but also illness. The economy in all of Ravka crumbled. Both States were fighting against each other for resources, as the food supply from East Ravka to West was now scarce. An increase in fires and dust bowls destroyed a lot of ecosystems, further deteriorating the country.

What was left of it that is.

There was little to no hope, with even prayers to the Saints to help them becoming meaningless words. Those still worshiping begged for a savior. The one who would bring the rain and storm. Ending the drought. Releasing them from the famine.

The idea a Squaller could summon a powerful storm was unheard of. Being able to bring forth powerful winds, rain, and possibly lightning and Thunder? Surely a Grisha of sorts would be only known by folklore. Especially given Tidemakers were the ones to control water.

Yet, it all changed one day as the 104th year of the drought approached.

“You’re more powerful than you think, Imber,” Baghra's stern voice echoed in the cave. Sitting opposite of her, with her head down and tear stains painting her cheeks, 15-year-old Imber Egorova made a sound Baghra could only assume was a whimper. “Denying it will do you no good. It will do this country no good.”

“How do you know?” The girl whispered, voice hoarse from crying following another gruesome 12 hour training day. “What makes me different from any other Squaller here?” She referred to the 20 other Squallers residing on the Little Palace grounds. Though some trained with the renowned Gisha teacher, none experienced the level of intensity Imber did.

“No Squaller here has shot someone 80 yards by their power during an exercise,” Baghra rebutted, causing Imber to wince at the memory. The reason why she was suddenly called to Baghra’s cave in the first place. From then on Imber barely got a lick of sleep or time to eat a proper meal.

The older woman gave a pointed look, “nor have they been able to summon electricity.” Ignoring Imbers stunned expression, she continued, “yes, girl, I know what you did when your sister’s heart stopped before you came here. Why your family was so willing to let you go after the testers proved you were Grisha,” Baghra leaned back in her chair, face void of emotion. “Ravka has not seen more than a few inches of rain since this drought began. No storms. And with the famine,” there was a light pause, “It’s claimed more lives than the Fold.”

Imber shuddered at the mention of Ravka’s darkened entity. Not wanting to think about its black abyss swimming with volcra.

“The point is, child,” Baghra captured her attention once more, “Besides the Sun Summoner, you could be the one to end part of Ravka’s suffering. But that will not happen if you cannot believe it yourself.”

Weeks shy of her 16th birthday, Imber received a letter from her father, which would change not only her world, but the one around. After contracting a bacteria from contaminated pond water, her mother and sister succumbed to a deadly illness after only a week. Her father had buried them on their land by the dead oak tree where they used to have picnics before Imber was taken to the Little Palace.

Distraught and riddled with unbearable pain, Imber collapsed to her knees in the middle of the courtyard, crumbling the letter in her hands. Her peers were silent, staring at her with sympathy. Unsure of what to say to the grieving teen, despite many knowing the exact feeling Imber was feeling.

Sorrow, anguish, regret. Never having the chance to correct wrongs or make memories with the loved onces they longed for. The cries of the Grisha filled the otherwise silent courtyard.

Suddenly, a rumble came from the sky..

Imber didn’t hear it over the sound of her sobs. Her companions, however, drew their attention upward, where they were greeted by a sight unimaginable. What once was a clear blue canvas, barely any clouds to begin with, transformed to that of a dark shadow. Wind, so powerful they thought a Squaller was responsible, nearly sent them off their feet.

“What’s happening?” A girl shouted, though they had difficulty hearing her due to the mix of rumbling overhead and breeze of wind.

“I don’t know!” the boy, a Tidemaker, beside her squinted, “Imber!” He lifted a hand to protect his eyes while focusing his view on the kneeled Grisha. A flash of light where her hands were plaed on the ground had him flinching. ‘What in the---.’ The spark occured once more. Chills filled his entire being as his eyes became saucers, falling to a whisper. “Saints above.”

Witnessing the sparks, an Inferni moved closer, ignoring the warning sent by the Tidemaker. “What is she doing?” His answer came by being blasted back by a gust of wind.

Imber let out a broken scream, head tilting back toward the sky as bolts of lightning released from her hands, igniting bouts of thunder in its wake. Gasps and shouts echoed around the Squaller from fellow Grisha and palace guards. The group behind her ran to find cover as the wind became too much, sending barrels and crates flying. Lightning and thunder, the duo reuniting as lost friends.

A sight to behold.

As the tears rolled down Imber’s cheeks, heavy rain soon replaced them. Drenching the lands of East Ravka for the first time in a hundred years.

For hours the girl remained kneeling on the grounds of the courtyard. Alone as everyone had seeked shelter within the Palace walls, letting the water from above coat her. The kefta she bore grew heavy. She paid no mind to it.

It wasn’t until she began to shiver from the freezing atmosphere that Imber retreated inside. Coming face to face with the reality of what transpired. As two guards escorted her to the throne room, Imber barely took notice of her peers watching the storm draw on from the windowsills. Some glanced at her in a mix of wonder, awe, and fear. Fear at the unknown, but wonder at what will be known.

Entering the throne room Imber was greeted by the King, Queen, Baghra, and the General of Ravka’s Second Army. Whereas the country’s monarchs were visibily bewildered at Imber, Baghra appeared impressed in comparison to the General’s excitement. Nerves consumed her on top of the immense grief Imber was experincing. Rain continued pelting the windows and roof of the Little Palace. Every once in a while, the occupants in the room flinched at the crack of thunder.

Upon making eye contact with the King, Imber bowed her head, curtseying as best she could with the weight of her soaked kefta. From there she underwent an hour of intense interrogation at the hands of the King and General. Baghra was questioned as well. Admitting she suspected the scale of Imber’s power but decided to stay quiet until the time came. The General, while pleased to know the world’s most powerful Squaller was among his ranks, voiced concern at the possibility of their enemies discovering her.

“Ravka has been praying for the day storms finally wash over her,” his tone was calm, almost haunting. Imber couldn’t look away as he moved toward her, tear stains painting her cheeks. “To save them from this wretching drought. Bring an end to this famine that has wiped away countless lives. Rain has touched grounds for the first time in over a century, Miss. Egorova. The people of Ravka are going to celebrate you. Erect statues on your name for being the hope they prayed for all these years.” he halted directly in front of her, keeping hold of her gaze it sent another wave of chills not relating to the cold clothes Imber wore.

“You are now the symbol of this dark period coming to its end. You are Sankta Imber of the Drought.”

“The storm lasted a fortnight, dispersing across Ravka’s lands until every inch had been touched by lightning. Yet the rain continued for months on end after the winds disappeared,” Nina recited the story etched into her brain. The crows silent as they took in her words. “Many say it was the raw grief of Imber losing her family that the storms were so strong. The constant rain marked as a symbol of her time in mourning.” The crows familiar with loss could relate. Kaz, Jesper, and Inej looking elsewhere than the Grisha.

Nina let out a breath, “Now whenever a powerful storm appears in Ravka, locals believe it to be Sankta Imber reminding them they will never experience a drought again. Famine will never touch their lands so long as she remains. Rain will be their protector, and she will be its champion.”

At the end of the Heartrender’s tale, Imber clasped her hands behind her back. “Nice to see my reputation still precedes me after all these years.” Chuckling, she took another step toward the group, “Still odd to hear myself spoken like a myth when I still live and breathe the same air as you.”

Again, no words could describe what the Crows were feeling at that moment. No one however was more shocked than Nina herself. And her reasons were far more than just being in the presence of a living Saint. “But you…”

Imber’s smirk turned to a soft smile, “Been some time since our last acquaintance, Nina Zenik.”

All eyes turned to the brunette, Kaz the first to speak, “What?” Not only was his mind racing, but now it was full of questions and doubts. They knew each other? But judging by Nina’s reaction, it was not all that meets the eye. She was stunned beyond belief like they were. “Care to explain, Zenik?”

Tensing by the tone of his voice, Nina sent him a light glare, “I don’t know her as Sankta Imber,” her eyes returned to the Grisha, this time showcasing betrayal as the memory of the woman in a blue kefta like her fellow Squallers appeared in her mind. “But as Commander Y/n Tempestasov of the Second Army.” Everyone felt the shift in the air at the mention of the Darkling’s army.

Why was one of the Darkling’s soldiers, a Saint at that, coming to them in the middle of the night? Traveling across the sea and saving them from Pekka’s men. There had to be a reason.

Kaz tightened the grip he had on his cane. Thinking back to events of the past several months. He would’ve recognized Imber, or Y/n, whatever she wanted to be called--at the Winter’s Fete. The kefta was unique; it would've captured anyone’s attention. As a powerful Squaller, Kirigan surely wanted her close to his side. Yet the Grisha had not been present on the skiff nor did Alina mention anything of meeting another living Saint.

Then there was the fact that the legends of Sankta Imber of the Drought were from nearly 300 years ago. It was believed she had died or dissapeared roughtly 20 years after she brought the storm to Ravka.

Meaning she’s been hiding in plain sight for centuries. A ghost among the living. Playing the role of a Second Army soldier under a false name to preserve her identity.

Another chuckle brought Kaz out of his thoughts, “Allow me to fill in the blanks, Crows,” Imber smirked at their reaction, “yes I know who you are. Do not doubt Nina’s loyalty--the last time we saw each other I was a different person. Roughly eight years if I’m correct,” bringing a hand to her chin, the Saint acted like she was deep in thought, “You’d only just arrived at the Little Palace before I escaped.”

“Escaped?”

Imber retained her posture, more serious than the initial laid back she had presented, “You’ve witnessed the evil General Kirigan is capabale of first hand.” they stayed silent, but each of their expressions faltered. “I discovered the scale of it a long time ago, after he made me a prisoner of the Little Palace under the guise of a trainer.” Nina bowed her head, the memory of Commander Y/n paroling the grounds where the Etherealki trained. She always appeared detached, but was kind to the young Grisha who had not yet succumbed to the corruption of the Darkling. “He was responsible for everyone believing I had died or dissapeared. After instilling fear in me at the thought of being captured by enemies, he had me locked in the caves of the Little Palace.” Inej let out a gasp, face consorting with sadness.

Imber shrugged, “sooner or later people stopped searching for me. Unaware I was close the entire time despire my storms becoming a blanket over Ravka for years. I was all but the myth you’ve heard.” Turning her head to Nina, Imber offered a soft smile, “It was years before he let me out. When he did I was named Commander under a false name and trained Grisha for centuries. Changing my name each time he did because someone asked too many questions and we had to clean up his mess. Y/n Tempestasov is the recent name of the many I’ve gone by. Frankly it’s my favorite if I’m being honest.”

“Would you prefer it if we called you that?” Wylan raised his hand, resulting in a side eye from Kaz at his formality. The Saint, however, smiled at him, “I’d like that. Imber Egorova…” she trailed off, connecting her gaze with Kaz as though she read him like a book. “She is of the past.”

Ignoring the weight on his chest, knowing damn well what the Saint was refering to, Kaz changed the subject. “Enough sentiment. You still haven’t said why you’re here.” The sound of his cane echoed on the pavement when he moved closer to her. “The Darkling might be dead but how are we to trust you’re not doing his bidding.”

The woman scoffed, obviously offended by the assumption, “Believe me, I hate the man more than anyone. Probably more than you and Alina combined.”

Jesper made a face of shock, voicing what they all thought, “You know Alina?”

“She sent me,” Y/n mused, shocking them more when she added, “And Kirigan is alive.”

“How is that possible?” Inej wondered aloud, unable to grasp the news.

“Turns out his own creation did not kill him after all. Instead he used merzost to create shadow monsters. Monsters that can only be destroyed with a certain blade that, like me, is also a legend.”

“Neshyenyer,” Kaz narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to call bluff. Y/n smirked in response.

“That is where you come in. We have some mutual friends, and they sent me to retrieve you lot to find the sword. Said you were the best of the best.” Hand going into her pocket, she removes a rolled parchment tied with a ribbon. “For your cooperation, the King of Ravka plans to generously compensate you.” She held it out to Kaz, “For you, Dirtyhands.”

He ignored the name, deciding not to question the depth of her knowledge on him and the Crows, and instead took the parchment. Once unfolded, he read the message inked onto its surface, detailing the extent of the mission and amount of kruge to be paid. He stopped at the name signed at the very end, ‘Nikolai Lantsov.’

‘Mutual friends,’ he remembered she said. Intuition telling him it was not only Alina and Mal the Saint referred to. Only person Kaz recalled that could likely be said aquaintance was a certain privateer.

Footsteps wandering away had the man look up, finding Y/n to take her leave. Kaz and Jesper flanked to his sides, the whole group watching her depart. “Come along, Crows,” she called out, the playfulness returning. “A storm is approaching.” light rain began to fall once more, followed by the sound of thunder in the distance. Kaz pictured the smile on her face by the tone of her voice. “And we’ve got work to do.”

[mmhcs]

They've Got Chemistry!

Miguel O'Hara x Science-Lover!Reader

A/N: Big hearts and big brains.

Warnings: Long fic, Miguel is (sort of) bad/rusty at science, and, while I tried to make this as accurate as possible, I must admit that I'm not as well-versed in the sciences as I'd like to be (I'm trying, though!) and so some information may be incorrect (I apologize to any science lovers/studiers in advance!)

As a geneticist, Miguel is obviously well-versed in all branches of science. But he loves biology. He loves all branches but that's where it's at for him. There's just something so interesting about what two organisms can create and how certain things can be moved around for better or worse. He likes the foresight that comes with the study, how one can predict and prevent.

Due to his role within the Spider Society, Miguel has taken a special interest in molecular biology. His favorite part is seeing how a Spider-person's DNA structure changes after being bitten. His least favorite part is seeing the damage that can be done when a person who doesn't belong travels to another universe. From what he's concluded, DNA becomes damaged following exposure to another universe. He wishes he would have known that sooner.

When Miguel first sees you, it's at one of the many labs within the Spider Society. You're sitting at a table with Miles, helping him with his Physics homework. The first thing that comes to Miguel's mind is wow. Because you mean to tell him that you're pretty and smart? And you're a science fanatic like him? Most Spiders he works with a smart (even Peter B.), yes, but whenever he starts going into the specific details of what makes up the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse, their eyes start to glaze over.

But you - you explain everything to Miles with evident eagerness. It makes Miguel want to go up and say something, pick your brain and have his own conversation with you.

"...Now, Miles, when you want to find the density, it's mass divided by volume—" "Could you please keep it down in here? I'm feeling the reverberation of your soundwaves in the next room," Miguel says as he casually strolls up to you and Miles. "Excuse me?" You watch as this big man saunters over to the two of you. "If we're being factual, the frequency that we're speaking at right now wouldn't even be enough to be picked up from behind the door of this room." Though almost unnoticeable, Miguel's false irritated demeanor falters at your words. It was a joke. He was joking. Nonetheless, he continues walking towards the table, stealing a chair and plopping down opposite to you. "Hey!" Miles yells, almost knocked out of his chair by Miguel's hasty actions. "Relax, kid, you're fine," he hisses before turning back to you. "Miguel O'Hara" —he extends his hand, hoping that his eagerness isn't evident—"and you are?"

He basically hijacks Miles's study session with you. And, while annoyed (because physics is way harder than it sounds), Miles finds great amusement in seeing Miguel get fact-checked back-to-back.

Following your "conversation", Miguel makes more of an effort to brush up on his knowledge of science. You made him realize that he's been neglecting so much of the scientific world in favor of work.

He totally doesn't use this as an excuse to spend more time around you, though. The reason why Miguel silently observes you as you work in the lab is because he has to make sure that you don't accidentally screw something up, not because he wants to get to know you more but he's nervous and afraid that he'll say something stupid.

Oddly enough, you also bring Miguel and Miles closer together. After noticing his behavior around you, Miles goes to him, hoping that he can offer some advice.

"Look, it's a crush—no biggie!" Miles says, lackadaisically waving a hand. "I get them all the time!" Miguel doesn't say anything, only looks down at Miles from his platform. "Hey, my Uncle Aaron always used to tell me that when you like someone, you go up to them, put your hand on their shoulder and say 'Hey' really smoothly. Gotta make your voice come out like mantequilla, y'know? Makes 'em go crazy—" "Get out." "Huh? What? But tío, I'm just trying to offer some advice man-to-man—" "Get. Out." Slightly defeated, Miles turns to head for the door, mouth scrunched into a tight knob. "And that's what you're having trouble with in Physics?" Miguel adds. "A baby could do those problems!" "Hey, you got three of them wrong!" Miles calls back.

When you two finally start dating, Miguel tries his best to be the smartest, most educated version of himself. He's constantly spitting out random scientific facts or calling you to do experiments with him. He wants to impress you.

As the leader of the Spider Society, it's very rare that Miguel asks for help. He doesn't even like calling for backup when he needs it. But whenever he's working on something or needs to be reminded of what correct term to use, he calls you. You're the only one allowed in the lab with him while he's working and you're the only one allowed to pitch and test new ideas. It's a great display of trust and vulnerability on Miguel's part, given out of his trust and love for you.

He even allows you to make jokes when he messes up.

Carefully, Miguel picks up a piece of potassium with a pair of tweezers. In front of him is a row of beakers, filled with everything from water to new, colorful concoctions that he'd mixed together. He studies the potassium and then eyes the row of beakers, deciding on which one to drop the sucker in. "Cariño, come look at this, porfa," Miguel says once he's decided. You swivel around in your chair to look back at him just as he drops the potassium into the beaker of water. Before you can say anything, sparks fizzle within the glass followed by two loud pops. Miguel remains frozen in place, both in embarrassment and disbelief. He meant to drop it in the beaker next to the water. It's only when you come up and peck him on his ear does Miguel finally snap out of his thoughts. "Was that deliberate or are you just excited to see me?" you ask with a chuckle.

While you're not a fan of Miguel staying late and overworking himself, sometimes you plan dates in the lab where you two do fun, non-work-related experiments. While it's not as good as having him home and resting, you take solace in the fact that he's taking a break from work to do something fun.

Miguel dedicates himself to learning more about your favorite branch of science. Whether it's chemistry, physics, or a subfield such as acoustics, you best believe that he's going to read every book, do every experiment with you, and make sure that he understands how to better relate to you.

Likewise, you and Miguel also do a lot of biology experiments together. Even if it's something as plain as extracting and comparing DNA from different fruits, he likes to hear you prattle off facts and make observations and hypotheses.

You also use "research experiments" such as "the effects of sleep and relaxation" in order to coax Miguel into taking care of himself.

Miguel's favorite cheesy joke to make is that you two are like protons and electrons because you're a beam of positivity in his life and he, like an electron, is insanely attracted to you.

Your late-night talks are both existential and logical as you discuss how the Web of Life and Destiny bought you two together and whether or not it's a canon event, you two were meant to be.

Overall, Miguel loves you. Not just how easy it is to get lost doing something he loves but just you in general. Your brain, knowledge, face, body, how you keep him on his toes and constantly inspire him to learn and relearn—he loves all of it. And he forever cherishes you.

A/N: Once again, so sorry about the length of this! If any science aficionados would be so kind as to share some links to videos, websites, etc. that help them to better understand science, that would be much appreciated! Hope y'all enjoyed!

[vickyvicarious]

I know it seems so random that Jonathan went from utter despair and panic to asking Dracula about his family history, I do, but. it was actually clever.

I think it's extremely clever, actually. And not really random at all. (Though I can absolutely see how it might seem that way.) Jonathan says it himself, as he's coming down from his panic/emerging from despair into planning mode:

So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits; and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through.

He can't go to Dracula for help. On the off chance that he's being paranoid, doing so isn't going to help (frankly, even if Dracula were totally innocent and Jonathan were just being paranoid, I think he's already so suspicious of his host that he wouldn't believe any reassurances that might be given. But it's a moot point because Dracula is the cause, Jonathan's correct). And if, as he strongly believes, he is in danger already, Dracula is the one putting him in danger. Confronting him, when he already holds all the power, isn't helpful. Nor is confirming that Jonathan knows what's up by asking him directly about Jonathan's suspicions. Best case scenario, Dracula continues to brush him off like he already did when Jonathan asked questions he didn't want to answer ("Sometimes he sheered off the subject, or turned the conversation by pretending not to understand"), worst case scenario Dracula also drops the pretence of being 'friends' and gets openly violent or restricts Jonathan's freedoms even more.

So Jonathan concludes right away that he can't go to Dracula. But then right after this, he confirms that Dracula is the only other person in the castle (or at least, there are no servants). That means, he has no one else to go to but Dracula. Jonathan starts thinking about the driver, about the caleche ride, about the gifts given to him by the other local passengers... he wonders what purpose they serve, then he decides to talk to Dracula some more.

Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to understand. To-night he may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be very careful, however, not to awake his suspicion.

Jonathan's train of thought is something like this: can't confide in the Count -> no one else to ask -> he posed as the driver -> the passengers gave me gifts which may have some meaning -> I'll have to think more about that -> (unstated: the best way to learn information is by talking with someone) -> (unstated: the only person I have to talk to is Dracula) -> I can try and subtly direct the conversation to learn more about Dracula.

That he does so under the auspices of local history makes it clear to me the gifts are still on his mind. He already asked about local superstitions the day before and Dracula got quiet at times, so he doesn't want to press the point. But in amongst his answers the other day, Dracula got very dismissive of the peasants (= he is proud of his noble status), and he mentioned that "Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things." (= at least some if not all of this stuff is linked to Transylvanian ways specifically, which is supported by the locals seeming to have knowledge Jonathan does not.)

So by asking about local history, Jonathan is gathering together a whole bunch of threads. Local history (perhaps including supernatural/relevant elements), learning more about the character and values of his captor (always useful information), not being open with his suspicions, choosing a topic Dracula is likely to talk willingly on at length, and following up on his own points of interest in as subtle a way as possible.

And while Dracula's following diatribe isn't openly discussing his vampirism, it sure does give a sense of his values as well as context clues that can become quite important later.