#none of my past experience prepared me for THIS consequence

[faggotryandtransjesterism]

the ds9 pilot is insane. they went into the writer's room and decided the introduction to this series needed to be a long form exploration of the nature of grief

[castkorb]

I made this post a few days ago and was asked for more input on Sting's character in regards to future Rogue so here's some more thoughts:

enjoy <3

Future Rogue explicitly says he killed Sting and took his power but I have my doubts about that:

f!Rogue said to Natsu that in one year from the games Frosch would be killed by Gray and thus his pillar would be gone and he would succumb to the shadow, meaning during Avatar Gray and Rogue would fight.

But Tartaros happened before Avatar, and during this arc we witness Sting and Rogue's first shown improvement after swearing change in the name of Sabertooth, which culminates in both of them killing Jienma and erasing Sabertooth's ugly past for good. also using a unique unison raid that only they can do <3

Which solidifies the fact that Rogue is no longer intimidated by his shadow because, as he said himself, Sting would be able to kill it. He no longer lives haunted by the thoughts of his shadow taking over him because he knows Sting will always be there to protect him.

But this obviously all happened in the good future where the world didn't end and now THIS is where the fun begins.

What happened in the bad future where f!Rogue is from?

If my memory serves correct f!Rogue later revealed that his plan was to open the gate of Eclipse to let dragons from the past in and rule them to overcome Acnologia, who would soon descend and raise the world into chaos.

Now I don't think he gave an exact date as to when would this be but, Acnologia did indeed appear later during Tartaros so we're going to assume that's when the apocalypse started in the bad timeline.

And let's rewind for a sec to what happened in the good timeline's Tartaros: Sting and Rogue helped Fairy Tail, saved Minerva and killed Jienma, which is a direct consequence of what f!Rogue did during Eclipse.

I explain:

What would have happened after the games ended in this bad timeline? Would Sting have accepted to become Sabertooth's new master? His resolution begins when he gives up before Erza and the rest during the final battle but I don't think he really makes up his mind about it until the dragons are attacking the city and he fights to protect his guild, both he and Rogue do.

It's not until both of them are fighting at the end of the world that they realise what made Fairy Tail the strongest guild, and even after having tecnically lost, this battle gave them something f!Rogue probably didn't expect.

It gave them hope.

So can we really assume they would've followed the same path had they not fought the dragons? I find it absolutely marvelous and poetic how f!Rogue, having lost all sense of compassion, hope and having nothing left but rage, wanting to cast his revenge in this new timeline indirectly saved him and his beloved from the horrors he had to endure.

Which brings me back to my first statement. In the bad timeline Sting was left with nothing after the games ended, sure Jienma was gone, he got Lector back and he had Rogue but what was he supossed to do from there on? Without the cataclysm of the Eclipse gate I assume he'd want nothing to do with Sabertooth again, or maybe he did, but then as Tartaros arrived maybe the guild had not yet gone through the experience of truly fighting along your peers to protect them, none of the guilds had. except, yknow, fairy tail but they're literally the mcs here

We can't forget that they were fighting literal demons here, plus Acnologia himself. -Again taking in mind the experience of fighting dragons had also not happened here-

You could also argue that the FACE project the Tartaros gates had planned might've actually worked in this timeline, which would result in over half of the population or more being left without magic to fight, it's understandable the world fell into chaos pretty quickly and a huge number of people died, as we saw in f!Lucy's timeline.

And Sting and Rogue were probably neither mentally nor physically prepared to fight all of this right after the magic games, they didn't have time to bond with their guildmates after Jienma died the same way they did in the good timeline, hell I'd even argue Sting was probably in a worse state because he got his emotional and physical strenght tested back then and there's no way he'd recover from that in such a short time with only Rogue's help.

Throughout the manga we see how Sting is the uplifting half of this duo, he's the one who constantly reassures Rogue and the rest of the guild, he's taken his admiration for Natsu and learned from it in that sense, but is bad future Sting like this? Is he able to smile and shine a path to the people he loves, is he able to fight for them?

In my head f!Rogue didn’t kill Sting because Sting likely gave up fighting or chose to sacrifice himself. that being to give Rogue another chance to live or because he knew one of them would die and he knew he wouldn't be able to live without Rogue is up to interpretation :)

And this proves to me that neither can live without the other, when Sting died f!Rogue either lost his mind and gave into grief not fully, he would after Frosch's death and took his powers in order to survive or to preserve a small part of Sting with him, which makes this shit sadder when his shadow fully takes over him and he's no longer concious of this, using his partner's power, the only power able to guide him and subdue him to kill without remorse.

f!Rogue said that Frosch was his pillar but I refuse to believe Sting is not a pillar for him as well, he may have fully lost against his shadow after losing Frosch but his relationship with Sting having ended simply with a "I killed him amd took his powers" I will not accept, Rogue lost half his heart when Sting died/was killed and Frosh was the last bit of sanity that remained of him after that, which was ultimately but not the only reason he wasn't strong enough to fight his shadow.

As you can see I have a lot to say about this arc and I would've given anything for it to be explored more but alas I've spent the last 6+ years rewritting the entirety of this manga in my head and I love to dive into the possibilities, like what could have happened if Sting had lost Rogue in that future? what happened to the rest of the Sabertooth's members? I can be here all day.

But anyways I feel I'm not good enough at expressing my thoughts in written form but I hope it's understandable enough? I'm growing more confident though so hopefully I can puke more nonsense about this two <33

[staytinyville]

Lee Know

PLEASE REFER TO MASTERLIST TO GET FULL TAROT READING EXPERIENCE

↣ Summary: When your life suddenly takes a turn, and you're faced with large changes, you question if you’re ready for them. Lee Know is there to tell you it’s what you’ve been waiting for.

↣ Characters/Pairing: Lee Minho x gn!Reader

↣ Genre: fluff

↣ AU/Trope info: 9th member!au, idol!au, pre-debut!Lee Know, pre-debut!reader

↣ Word Count: 624

↣ Warnings: None

↣ A/N: We read nth member AUs here. There are a couple throughout the event. It did come out a bit smaller than I was hoping, but having a full story for each card isn’t the point. It’s just something fun to read while getting a tarot reading. 

JUDGMENT

Judgment, Rebirth, Inner Calling, Absolution

This is your moment to prepare yourself for something bigger. You have been reborn like a phoenix and are now ready to experience your spiritual awakening. You are meant to embrace the new you and forget the past.

This is a card that is meant to tell you that you need to make life changing decisions but not with your head rather with your heart. You know things are going to be different from here on out but you need to let yourself feel those moments that will ultimately lead you to a better time.

You’re reaching the point in your life that is meant to take you higher than you are meant to be. It’s a place that the universe has ready for you after you realized that the things you’ve done in the past will only stay in the past. It’s also a card that brings you to share your struggles with other like minded people. Make sure you have those close to you in order to grow and come out of your shell.

XX JUDGMENT

You watched over the replay of the last performance you did with the other boys. You also looked for the replies that came with each video of you. While you got the same amount of hate as the other boys, you didn’t seem to have many fans compared to the others. Your lips pulled together as you began to worry that you wouldn’t make it as far as the others. 

“You okay?” Someone asked you as they came to sit next to you on the couch. 

You gave Minho a smile in acknowledgment, setting your phone back down before turning to the TV screen in the room. Watching the performance pass by your eyes, you sighed to yourself. 

“Should I do this?” You asked Minho.

“What do you mean?” He frowned, looking at you oddly. 

Minho tried just as hard as you, if not harder. But he was someone who already had something under his belt to push him forward. Heck, he was a back-up dancer for BTS. All of the boys had something that made them stand out in a crowd, which made you feel like you were someone who easily blended in. Someone who wouldn’t be noticed in the group. 

“Should I continue with this whole idol thing?” You said. 

“Isn't this what you've always wanted?” Minho quickly spoke up. “You always talk about it.”

You were someone who was passionate about what you wanted. It’s what he found appealing about you. You demanded people to notice your presence in the room with how powerful you were in everything. You might have had trouble doing certain crafts, but you would try your hardest to find the perfect spot within it. 

“It's my dream more than anything.” You told him honestly. “It's what I want to do with myself.”

“Then why are you doubting?” He asked you.

“Because I'm scared of the changes that come with it.” You admitted. “They are inevitable–I know that for a fact, but I worry that they'll be too much for me.”

Here you were, not even a debuted idol yet, and already you're thinking of yourself negatively. Finding out where the problem was has always been the first step to overcoming your insecurities. You knew what it was that was making you doubt yourself, and you wanted to squash them down before you even got the chance to go out as an idol. 

“If you go into this thinking that it will be your downfall.” Minho told you. “This is your dream, and you know every consequence that will come from it. You've done your research, you're not going into this blind.”

“You have all of us going in with you. You're not alone in whatever you struggle with in the future. We are in this together at this point.” He finished. 

You turned to him, tears welling in your eyes as you understood that things were going to go the way they needed to. You had made it this far in your adventure into the idol world. You were going to struggle–you knew that much. It was what came with this kind of career. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t going into the whole thing blind. The changes that were going to come into your life were something you prepared for. You were someone who thought deeper into things than others. All those nights spent trying to reach that perfect performance each time was going to be worth it for you. The moment you debut with the others, everything was going to fall into place for you.

And just like Minho said, you weren’t going to allow yourself to go through it alone. You now had 8 other boys who were willing to share your struggles. 

“Thanks, Minho.”

Tags : @cultofdionysusnet , @sandsofire , @k-vanity

[remma3760]

Consequences

Chapter 30

Summary:

The Lan's clean up after the battle as Wen Ruohan's final plans are revealed.

They had gathered in Lan Qiren's office as Cloud Recesses was put back in order. Wei Wuxian picked at his sleeve, uneasy. "I've found a flaw in our battle plan."

Lan Qiren was surprised. "What flaw, Wuxian? We won."

"We did, A-Die. But all the soldiers we kept outside the barrier got away. What if they go back to Wen Ruohan?"

"Wuxian, we don't even know what to do with the prisoners we do have. Cloud Recesses does not have the capability of keeping them confined. If we had captured all of them then they would outnumber our own disciples. Better they leave."

Baoshen Sanren patted Wei Wuxian comfortingly. "What does it matter if they go back to Wen Ruohan? We defeated them once; we can do so again. Qiren, why not just seal the cores of the prisoners and send them away without their swords? Unless you intend on executing them?"

"No. I promised they would be spared. We will do as you suggest."

"A-Die, what about the puppets?"

"Ah, good news there. They have started to regain their spiritual cognition now that the dire owls are destroyed. It seems none of them are soldiers. Most are simple villagers captured by Wen Ruohan for his vile experiments. I'm glad we were not forced to kill them. Baojie is examining them now but they seem unharmed."

"Shufu, will they be able to go home?" 

"I hope so, Xichen. I think it would be safer for them to stay here until we know what Wen Ruohan's plans are but our aim is that they eventually return to their lives."

They were interrupted by the sound of a bell which signified that a message had arrived in their letterbox. Lan Qiren reached for it. "Ah, from Nie Jiahao. I sent him and Wen Qing letters earlier to let them know what had occured." 

"What does it say?" Wei Wuxian asked.

"Huh, as expected. The force sent to the Unclen Realm was to keep them from helping us only. Not as an invasion. It seems that Wen Xu was unsatisfied with being the distraction and concerned that Wen Chao would get all the glory. He chose to engage Nie Mingjue in single combat."

Lan Xichen gasped, worried for his friend. "Shufu, what happened?"

"Nie Jiahao says they will be returning Wen Xu's head to his father."

Lan Yi chuckled, pleased. "We should do the same with Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu. Let Wen Ruohan have the set."

"He does suggest that. He is sending a disciple here to retrieve their heads and will find away to get all three to Wen Ruohan. Well, that's one problem solved."

***

Lan Qiren looked contentedly around Cloud Recesses. The former puppets were recovering in the infirmary. The prisoners had been sent off. The dead had been laid to rest. Looking around it was impossible to believe that only a week earlier a fierce battle had been fought on these grounds. 

"Lan Xianshen, Lan Xiansheng."

A worried disciple hurried up, letter in hand. Lan Qiren sighed. So much for his contentment. Was he not to be allowed even a moment of peace? What had happened now? "Let me see that."

He took the letter, frowning when he saw it was from Wen Qing. It seemed that Wen Ruohan had received the heads. Just as well he was on his way for their regular lunch meeting. This news needed to be shared promptly. 

***

Lan Qiren was the last to arrive at the jingshi. Baoshen Sanren sat with Lan Yuan on her lap as Lan Yi fed him peach slices. Wei Wuxian leaned back against Lan Wangji as he explained his latest talisman to Lan Xichen. They were happy and relaxed after the recent turmoil.

He almost hated to ruin everyone's good mood, but they would need to prepare. "Wen Qing has sent a letter. It might be best if I read it to you all."

Lan Qiren settled down and began to read.

"Lan Xiansheng,

"Over the past few days soldiers have been returning from both Cloud Recesses and the Unclean Realm. None have reported back to Wen Ruohan of the failure of the attacks. I am not surprised as my uncle is known to react violently when denied victory. Until yesterday he was still unaware that his forces had been defeated.

"A patrol arrived back in Nightless City yesterday. They had been given a qiankun pouch by an innkeeper. They were told that it was a gift for The Chief Cultivator. I think you know what it contained. My uncle was incensed when the heads of Wen Zhuliu and both of his sons rolled out onto the floor. 

"He was shaking with rage. Black smoke seeped from his pores and his eyes turned black. For a moment I hoped he might qi deviate on the spot, but no. He started pacing and ordered that all patrols be instantly recalled. I would have written immediately but I hoped to learn of his intent in doing so first. I fear I now know what he plans. Again, I hoped that he meant to secure Nightless City, but it was the opposite. 

"Lan Xiansheng, he is gathering every man he has and means to march on Cloud Recesses himself. The only good news I can report is that he no longer has the control needed to create more puppets Even so, his forces will be double those he sent with Wen Chao. 

"You have a week at most before they reach you. 

Wen Qing."

Baoshan Sanren was thoughtful. "If his soldiers didn't report back then he won't know how we defeated his son. I see no reason not to repeat our strategy."

Wei Wuxian shook his head. "But the soldiers outside the barrier. Shouldn't we have a plan to deal with them this time?"

"No need."

"Lan Zhan? What do you mean? We should just let them go when they keep coming back?"

"They are paid to come, Wei Ying. If Wen Ruohan is killed then they will not be paid and will not come."

Lan Qiren nodded. "Wangji is right. We need only defeat Wen Ruohan himself and his army will crumble. I will alert the Nie. They may be able to send help. One thing is certain. Wen Ruohan must die. 

[jeshala]

I used to watch DS9 before bed with my fiance at times. He passed a few years ago and just, the whole thing fucks me up so bad.

Sisko: [on the image of his dead wife on the Saratoga] I don't know if you can understand. I see her like this, every time I close my eyes. In the darkness, in the blink of an eye, I see her... like this.

Jennifer Prophet: None of your past experiences helped prepare you for this consequence.

Sisko: And I have never figured out how to live without her.

Anybody else frequently feel haunted by a specific line of episode 1 of DS9, Emissary, in which a man tries to explain the linear nature of human life to non-linear entities as they take him through his memories, attempting to understand, only to end up coming back over and over to the moment he failed to reach his wife before her death, and when he asks why they keep bringing him here they tell him “you exist here,” and he finally breaks down and admits that part of him never left this moment, and, understanding, they gently say to him:

“it is not linear.”

and he agrees

“no. It’s not linear”

…or it it just me

[somnambulants]

hi!! i was just wondering if i could request more yelena where yelena introduces her gf to natasha and her family and she’s uncharacteristically nervous so nat finds it amusing? thank you :)

a bit of minor surgery

summary: Yelena tries to keep you to herself but her family has other ideas word count: 1.7K notes: so this is a little different to what you asked for but i hope you still like it! for the sake of this, nat, yelena, alexei and melina are just one happy family 

“But if we –"

Natasha holds up a hand and Yelena stops talking. “Do you hear that?”

It’s faint but there’s the sound of someone moving around on her apartment floor. Being the only person who lives on this floor and one of the few in this building is enough for this to raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

Survival for them has always meant constant vigilance.

Both of their heads swivel towards the front door as the footsteps become louder, very clearly approaching her apartment.

Yelena doesn’t have to look to know Natasha is mirroring her, pulling out her gun and scanning every entry-way for possible intruders.

On edge, Yelena presses herself against the door, readying herself until she listens properly and realises the approaching footsteps sound familiar. 

Somehow, she feels herself relax and become even more tense at the same time.

“Stop,” she says as Natasha moves towards the door as well, holding an arm out to stop her. “It’s okay. I know who it is.”

At her words Natasha relaxes, putting her gun away but she watches her face carefully as she does so.

The panic Yelena can feel building inside her must not be as well hidden as she thought because a slow grin spreads across her face as the sound of a gentle knock echoes through Yelena’s apartment.

“Is it..?”

“Yes,” Yelena replies curtly. “And no. You can’t meet them.”

Natasha gives her a wicked look, clicking her teeth together teasingly. “What? Scared I’ll…eat them?”

She snickers as Yelena reaches out and shoves her hard enough to knock the air out of her while also giving her a firm and clear: im going to kill you if you don't listen to me look as she goes to open the door.

Not that it's ever stopped Natasha before.

“Just stay there,” Yelena hisses and then wrenches the door open, finding you behind it with your hand still mid-air, prepared to knock a second time.

“Y/N!”

“Hi,” you say, looking a little startled but smiling at her none the less as you drop your hand.

Beside her and thankfully, just out of your view, Natasha, to her credit, is silent but Yelena can feel her gaze glued to her face and can especially feel the amusement radiating off her in waves.

She grits her teeth, forcing a smile. Your own fades a little as you take her in. “Is this a bad time?”

“No,” Yelena says quickly. Still out of sight, Natasha lets out a huff of laughter just quiet enough that she hopes she’s the only one that hears her.

“Not at all,” she adds, and since the door covers most of her body, it’s safe for her to reach out and pinch Natasha on the arm. Which is what she does. Hard. “Just --give me a second?”

Clearly still puzzled, you nod and Yelena closes the door, giving you a smile that she has a feeling looks more like a grimace.

Next she grabs Natasha by the arm and starts walking her forcibly towards the window. “Out.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow as she pulls them to an abrupt stop, looking at her then looking out the window. “You seriously want me to scale ten stories because you’re an idiot?”

As an answer, Yelena unlocks the latch and lets the window sweep open, giving her a pointed look that says: Yes. Obviously. 

Natasha rolls her eyes but to Yelena’s relief, she slides out the window.

“��еудачник,” is all she says in parting before she disappears, dropping down the stairwell and vanishing from sight completely.

The word lingers in the air after her: Loser.

Yelena scowls after her for a second before she rushes back to the door and opens it, letting out a sigh of relief when she sees you’re still there, standing in the same spot.

“Sorry,” she apologises, swinging the door open. “There was just a uh, complication....a spider. I caught it and put it outside. I know you hate them.”

As she speaks, you slowly raise one eyebrow at her. The other quickly follows and it's then that she notices the narrowed look in your eyes.

When you start speaking, your voice is low and scarily calm. “So it has nothing to do with the woman I just made eye contact with as she was climbing down your fire escape?”

Something Yelena is proud to say is that in her life there have been very few times she’s been at a loss for words. 

This however is one of them.

She stares at you, blankly, knowing her panic must be showing on her face by the way your expression progressively becomes darker and darker as seconds pass and she fumbles frantically for something to say.

“I, uh, she is, she, uh –”

“—Natasha Romanoff. Nice to meet you.”

To her credit, Natasha has always been the stealthier of the two of them. Ignoring that fact, Yelena chooses to believe that her being distracted by you is why she doesn’t hear her coming back up the stairwell.

She also chooses to believe that she didn’t visibly jump at the sound of her voice and that the cough Natasha lets out is genuine and not covering up a laugh that says she’s going to mock her mercilessly for this entire thing later.

Of course, Yelena can’t fool herself but she tries anyway.

You look even more unimpressed as Natasha comes to a stop beside her and it clicks in Yelena’s head that you think her and Natasha – her and Natasha. She can’t even finish the thought.

As funny as it is, she doesn’t let herself laugh, knowing instinctively that it’s not a good idea. The flinty look in your eyes just confirms how much of a not good idea that is.

Just because you weren’t raised like her doesn’t mean that you couldn’t pack a punch; something she learned early on in your relationship when she’d accidentally snuck up on you once. She’d had a black eye for weeks after that.

“Natasha is my --” she isn’t sure how to say: ‘this is the woman I was trained to kill people with while we grew up being tortured and experimented on, remember I told you?’ In a way that won’t make you go running for the hills.

As she trails off, Natasha, sensing her panic, jumps in. Yelena knows that internally, she must be laughing hysterically though to her merit, she keeps it to herself. “I’m her… sister. Of sorts.”

You know about her past – all of what she was willing to repeat of it anyway – so comprehension quickly dawns on your face.

“Then why��?”

She watches as Natasha’s mouth twitches, sounding amused as she directly addresses you: “Well... my sister is an idiot. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Yelena tenses as you give her a once over, raking your eyes over her consideringly, before you turn back to Natasha.  “I may have noticed that. Yes.”

"Hey," Yelena protests, weakly. "That's not fair."

You give her a pointed look and she falls silent. Resigned to her fate, she lets out a sigh.

She can tell from the matching scheming looks brewing in both your own and Natasha’s eyes that this is only going to be the start of her own personal torment.

--

The one thing she really, really hates about her family is that they have this habit of showing up unannounced – you’d think that the whole being assassins and consequently, a little trigger happy as a result would make someone call ahead but no.

Never.

For this reason, it comes as no surprise when there’s the familiar three tap repetitive secret knock knock knock they had all come up with years ago on her front door early the following morning.

Silently, Yelena prays you don’t hear it and stay asleep as she drags herself out of bed and prepares herself for what she’s about to deal with.

Truthfully, she’s a little surprised that they’d had enough tact to wait until morning. She’d half expected them to be knocking her door down the second Natasha relayed last nights events to them. 

Yanking the door open, she comes face-to-face with Alexei and Melina. Taking them both in and cataloguing mentally that they look alive and uninjured, she lets herself glare at both of them.

“Is something wrong?”

They both frown. “No?”

“Okay I’m closing the door then.”

She starts to swing it shut but it’s quickly caught as Alexei shoves a foot in between it and the doorframe, giving her a reproachful look.

“Is your –”

“Yes,” Yelena interrupts, scowling harder than before, if that was even possible. “Now, leave.”

The look on Alexei’s face shifts, now suddenly a little too much on the wrong side of sneaky. “Can we—”

“No.”

“But–"

“I don’t care. You can’t meet them,” she barks, probably too loudly, as she shoves him back out into the hallway. If she has to throw them bodily out of here, she will. It just would likely attract your attention, which is the opposite of what she wants. “They’re asleep.”

“We can wake them,” he suggests, unhelpfully.

Yelena glares at him harder. “No.”

It’s faint but all of a sudden, she can hear the sound of a door squeaking as it opens. Her bedroom door to be more exact. Your voice calling out to her quickly follows.

“Okay,” she says. “I’m closing the door now.”

“Hey, no wait –” Alexei starts to protest. Yelena closes the door firmly in their faces and is working on dead-bolting it just as you appear in her line of sight.

You blink at her blearily, wearing just one of her T-shirts and nothing else. Thank god she hadn’t let them in. “Who was that?”

“Neighbours,” Yelena lies. ��Looking for their …cat.”

Still half asleep, you don’t think to question her and she sags against the door in relief as you venture into the kitchen in search of coffee.

To her relief, there are no subsequent persistent knocks or calls through the door and after a second, she can hear the quiet sound of footsteps and Alexei’s grumbling as they retreat.

Natasha is one thing – their parents or pseudo-parents or whatever they are – are another thing entirely. She’d save that one for another day.

Or never, preferably.

[old-type-40]

This important point that Guinan was projecting to Picard immediately made me think of this Trek moment:

Sisko: I never left this ship. Jennifer: You exist here. Sisko: I exist here. I don't know if you can understand. I see her like this every time I close my eyes. In the darkness, in the blink of an eye, I see her like this. Jennifer: None of your past experiences helped prepare you for this consequence. Sisko: And I have never figured out how to live without her. Jennifer: So you choose to exist here. It is not linear. Sisko: No. It's not linear.

"You exist here" - One of the saddest lines in all of Trek.

[chaoticevilbean]

An (Un)Official List Of Things Only Anakin Skywalker Can Do

Originally written by Ayala Secura

Blow people up with his mind on accident

Anakin expressed concern over his lack of emotional control. He gave many examples of normal problems that can arise from this. He then casually added one that is not common, usual, or even plausible for known Jedi. From his recollection, he would often cause beings who enraged him to spontaneously and violently combust.

I did my best to reassure him that such things were considered unusual, but weren't reason for him to be fearful. At the time, I simply didn't wish to increase his worries. I did maintain that the exploding of beings is very bad, and that he should work on finding ways to productively release such strong emotions.

I apologize here for the "renovation" of the hangar. (Secura)

Hear as far as the length of the Temple (without meditation)

Amendment: Hear as far as the diameter of Coruscant (without meditation)

Anakin once again was expressing concerns over his lack of control. He also complained that it was causing him headaches. Upon my questioning, he explained that he could hear the younglings playing on the other side of the Temple. I tested this by having us stand on either end of the longest part of the Temple we could reach. I asked if he could hear me (without a comm) and he responded that he could (using a comm).

Later, when he was still within the Temple, I found myself on a mission with my Master. It was not a very rushed assignment, and I began humming. Upon my return to the Temple, Anakin asked me if I knew what song it was, humming the exact tune I had. Apparently, he had been walking with his own Master and had heard me, though he hadn't been focusing enough to identify what he was doing. (Secura)

Smell differences within water despite being a non-variant Human

Smell differences within air despite being a non-variant Human

He accompanied me to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It was a normal walk through the gardens, until we came across one of the smaller ponds. He commented that someone had cleaned it recently. When I asked how he knew, he explained that it smelled different.

He and I were sitting within his quarters. We were simply chatting when he complained that someone had messed with the ventilation without alerting him or Knight Kenobi. He could smell the air was slightly different than before. As he put it, the smell wasn't the problem, but the lack of communication was.

Both instances, he couldn't elaborate on what exactly the smells were, nor how he knew what each one meant. He simply knows these things. When tested with some other Padawans, the only ones that came close to knowing such things were Nautolans, out of a base group of 15 species. The experiment is listed in the Archives as Liquid and Gaseous Change Detection. (Secura)

Eat death sticks without consequence

Both of our Masters brought us to the lower levels in order to fulfill a mission. Anakin and I were left in a corner booth, with instructions to remain there and cause a commotion if someone attempted to harm or harrass us.

I looked away for TEN SECONDS. Ten seconds, and he was being offered a death stick by a clearly intoxicated individual who had no sense of what should and shouldn't be given to a barely ten-cycle-old. Anakin had no experience with such things. He had no idea what he was being given, and managed to get instructions to pour the liquid into his fizzyglug within the fleeting moment I was not paying attention.

He consumed it, chugging the liquid when I attempted to order him to stop, and then take it from him when he didn't listen. The individual who gave him the death stick had the sense to begin to panic, finally realizing Anakin's youth. However, Anakin finished off every drop with nothing but a smile. I got our Masters attention, but even after taking him to the nearest medcenter and runnign multiple scans, there were no signs of any harm. I have received significant therapy for that event, and Anakin has since been informed to not take anything from strangers. (Secura)

Generate electricity on levels that a (non-variant) Human cannot perform (without a health declination)

He was making his hair do that weird static thing that Human hair does every time he got excited. He also kept causing screens and pads to glitch or turn off whenever he picked them up while in a similar state. A solution of temporary insulating gloves and frequent reminders helped him gain control. (Secura)

Communicate words through the Force with minimal bonding

Amendment: No bonding is necessary for this form of communication, and is possible within the expanse of the Temple

Amendment: Communication is possible over most distances

He asked me if Aayla was available to study (with the Force) because his mouth was full and he'd already been told off that day. (Vos)

Skywalker told me that my Padawan was experiencing a panic attack from across the Temple. No bond existed between us before or after the interaction. (Fisto)

Skywalker informed me of a mission delay over several systems. He explained later that he was attempting to prevent his Master's worry about informing the Council and knew I would inform the other members for Kenobi. (Windu)

Consume raw meat (without a health declination) despite being a non-variant Human

Nervous to eat lunch alone, he was. Asked to eat together, I did. Showed him the kitchens, I did. Ate five live frogs, he did. Proud, I am. (Yoda)

I handed him a rodent I had found within my quarters, asking him to hold it so I could call someone. I was going to call a being who could help me prevent further instances and get rid of this rodent. I needn't have worried about relocating or disposing of the creature, though. I remember hearing a loud squeal, then turning to find Skywalker trying to tear away the fur of the rodent. He had no notion that it was an unusual habit for a Human. (Ti)

Jump into the Temple vents without using the walls

Amendment: Without using any aid

Amendment: Jump in/out of the Temple vents and on/off obstacles of similar height without any aid whatsoever

He's proved this multiple times over various training excercises, and occasionally his attempts to avoid said excercises. There's footage of it from the Temple's cameras. He has no regard for safety when it comes to jumping off of ledges, cliffs, or roofs/out windows. Caution advisory does nothing. (Kenobi)

Send emotions through the Force without a bond

Amendment: Send emotions without a bond, over great distances, with extreme precision and without any meditation or prior preparation - such emotions will likely be magnified upon reception, and can cause fainting, among other symptoms

Upon the death of notable Jedi Master Pak'll Tiffn, I had decided to participate in their culture's traditional week-long mourning practices. Near the end of this, young Skywalker asked me why I seemed so "down". I explained my grief at the death of Master Tiffn, and he continued to question me on the cause of my "distress". When he discovered I had technically finished the practices an hour before, he sent such a strong wave of excitement to me that I found it hard to not smile for the following three days.

I also found myself wishing to work on starfighter engines, which I attribute to the excitement being of Skywalker's creation. (Tiin)

I had a migraine while on a mission. Skywalker sent me a wave of comfort that caused me to pass out. He has since been informed that he should not interact with Jedi in the field unless he is certain they are in a safe enough position to do so. (Windu)

Accidentally cause plants to grow at a visibly accelerated rate

Anakin fell asleep in the Room of a Thousand Fountains while attempting to meditate. Upon my arrival, I found the grass already past my knees in height, and several nearby shrubs beginning to flower. I write my apologies here to the caretakers of the Room, and express my gratitude that none of you commented on it. (Kenobi)

Accidental levitation whilst walking

Amendment: Accidental levitation whilst walking, running, and other movement in which one is not standing/sitting/lying in a singular place

Witnessed during sparring practice with Master Kit Fisto and Master Ki-Adi Mundi

Bypass shielding enough to receive a clear perception of a being's emotions

I was working through some guilt over a recent mission and the requirements to fulfill it. Anakin walked over and did his best to comfort me without any understanding of why I was feeling that way, but knowing exactly what I was feeling. Throughout our entire interaction, my shields remained firmly in place, and strong enough that he really shouldn't have been able to even know where I was.

Oh yeah. He came from across the Temple to find me. He bypassed my shielding from across the Temple, without realizing his actions, and did so with better precision than a fully trained Master. (Vos)

Carry items of any weight without strain from channeling

According to Skywalker, the only trouble he has with lifting all the furniture in his quarters is he has to focus on the act while also looking for his missing holopad. (Koon)

(regarding previous entry) Reminds me of the time he lifted all the ships in Hangar 6 in order to find a single wrench, which was in somehow within the vents. (Billaba)

Cause a building-wide power outage from a nightmare/vision

Incident recorded as Padawan-induced. (Nu)

Bite through beskar when curious

Taste the strength of metals

Skywalker is no longer allowed in the forges without someone actively supervising him and him alone. He saw a piece of beskar I had managed to aquire. He was curious about the ore, due to it being unknown to him. I caught him with it in his mouth like some youngling sneaking a cookie. Apparently it tasted really strong. I thought he meant the taste was pungent, until he said that even durasteel didn't taste as strong. (Ria)

Heal minor personal wounds immediately, within a few seconds and without discernible energy usage

Heal major personal wounds immediately, up to halving recovery time and with lessened energy usage

Incidents recorded in mission reports including Skywalker (Nu)

Accidentally mind trick crowds of 20 or more

Amendment: Untested limit of how many can be affected, although the effectiveness of the tricks varies between individuals, and can reach up to 50 beings (recorded)

Note to all those who may serve a diplomatic mission with Skywalker: he can safely diffuse mobs, protests, and other upset crowds. He will need time to calm his own emotions afterwards, as it is (theoretically) his increasing anxiety that causes such effects. (Fisto)

Learn a language after hearing it only once

Amendment: Anakin will not know this is happening. He will simply begin to speak the language back at whoever spoke it to him.

Incidents recorded in mission reports including Skywalker (Nu)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

All Jedi are now welcome to add to the (Un)Official List of Things Only Anakin Skywalker Can Do. All editors are asked to put some form of a source, even if such source is simply a page-long rant about Padawan Skywalker's habit of not checking if a substance should be poisonous to him (condolences to Knight Vos).

Please also include some sort of identifier to connect each edit to the being(s) who created them.

Sincerest gratitude and condolences to all Jedi who find themselves editing this file. (Secura)

[magicman111]

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter Three

Plumes of thick smoke billowed above the guard tower, blotting out the dusk sky with an ugly, brown smog. Burning red embers danced and flickered in the air, a single stray spark singeing Sasha’s right cheek.

Two girls stood, a dirt clod’s throw apart from each other. They stared each other down. The squeaky toy and Grime were already engaging in a battle of their own, leaving the two former friends alone on that tower. It did little to make the tension any less palpable.

Anne held her sword firmly in both hands, and the rage-filled scowl etched on her face made it clear she was itching for an excuse to ream the blade through her ex bestie’s chest cavity. The sheer hatred boiling inside her veins could not be overstated. Sasha, however, was a different story. She remained cool and kept both open palms raised, a sign of her peaceful intentions. Already a hard sell considering less than an hour ago, she’d ordered her flunkies to lock her and her family up in the dungeon after using and backstabbing her for the fifteen thousandth time.

She knew perfectly well what was at stake here. She knew the consequences not for them, but for this entire world if she failed. Convincing Anne to believe her now was going to be an uphill battle and the rematch she’d spent months prior fantasising about now seemed inevitable.

The irony surrounding both those things was not lost on her.

“Anne, I need you to listen to me!” she shouted over the hot gusts of wind whipping her face. “There’s something wrong with this Andrias guy! We should—”

Anne was having absolutely none of it. “You expect me to believe you?!” she asked her incredulously. “After all the lying and manipulating you’ve done?!” Sliding the sword back into its sheath, she turned her back on her in disgust. “Sorry, Sasha, but you’re out of chances.”

Why didn’t she take a photo? This would’ve been so much easier if she’d just thought to take a stupid photo! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Or maybe if she’d given Anne any reason to trust her.

The gates were now drawing close to slamming completely shut as Anne resumed pushing the lever. If Sasha squandered any more precious time, their fast-approaching army would be locked outside the city. She felt her twin swords weigh heavily on her hips; the tips of fingers twitched.

Whelp, in for a penny, in for a pound. She took a deep breath.

“I think Marcy’s in on it.”

“Yeah yeah!” scoffed Anne. “Blah blah bla—what?”

It was a hail mary that paid off. Anne froze in place and glared back at Sasha as if she’d caught her in the act of stomping on Domino’s tail.

“What... what did you say?” she asked, her voice fittingly ice-cold.

“Anne, look... I get it, okay?” Sasha gutsily stepped forward, closing the gap between them. They still had a glimmer of hope in ending this without a fight, so she knew she had to cobble her thoughts together and choose her next words carefully. “You don’t trust me a-and I don’t blame you, but I swear I’m telling you the truth. Grime and I found these—these weird pictures hidden in the throne room. They... one of them was showing the king with the music box. Th-then there was also something about Marcy’s family, I... I don’t know exactly what it all means...”

Amazing how they’d spent the past months going on wild adventures, escaping dozens of near-death experiences with the many monsters infesting the place, yet this was the one thing she struggled to make sound plausible. Of all the times for that natural charisma and confidence to falter. The way Anne was looking at her like she’d sprouted a third arm out her forehead told her it was going about as well as expected.

“All I know is we shouldn’t be giving either of them the Box. Not right now.” She finally lowered her hands back to her sides, adding, “Just come back to the throne room with me and I promise I’ll show you everything.”

A silence fell over the guard tower, punctuated only by the th-thunk of hundreds of armoured boots rising in the distance.

Now the ball was back in Anne’s court. She’d been rendered speechless by everything she’d been told. All she could do was stare the other girl square in the eyes. Dumbstruck.

Relief washed over Sasha as the tension appeared to simmer down, to the point she felt confident enough to move in closer, stopping when they were only feet apart. Tentatively, she reached out and brushed her fingers against her friend’s knuckles.

“Anne. Please.”

This snapped Anne out of her stupor. Reacting as if she’d been touched by something filthy, she broke her hand away from hers. Her expression turned on a dime from bewilderment to one of unadulterated hatred.

“... how dare you.”

Instead of withdrawing herself, Anne shoved Sasha away so violently it nearly sent her off her feet.

“I cannot believe I almost fell for that again! I mean, wow! Seriously, Sasha?! You’re gonna try and save your skin by throwing Marcy under the bus?! HOW DARE YOU!!”

Another jab to the breastplate silenced Sasha before she could respond. Anne was advancing on her dangerously, every step she took forcing her to back up. The only other instance she’d legit felt intimidated by her was back when she’d stood up to her at Toad Tower and even then, a secret part of Sasha was also impressed.

Now she’d touched upon what was already a frayed, raw nerve and it was scary.

“Let me tell ya something, Sash!” yelled Anne. A third strike nearly caught Sasha in the throat. “Marcy’s been more of a friend to me than you ever have! Marcy hasn’t lied to me! She hasn’t pushed me around! And she definitely hasn’t tried to kill my family! Unlike YOU!” She gripped the hilt of her sword, the menace in her eyes daring her to give her a reason. “She’s not only a real friend, she’s my best friend! And so help me, if you ever talk about her like that again, I will personally stick this thing right in your—”

The sounds of stomping boots and clattering armour had grown so loud they became impossible to ignore. Anne looked to her left to witness the sea of helmeted toads congregating outside the city walls.

How could she have let herself get distracted? They were coming. They were practically here.

“You were right; I am better off without you.” She hissed at her with so much venom it practically poured over her lips. “We both are.”

With that parting diss, Anne sprinted back to the lever. She had a job to do and she’d wasted way too much time and oxygen on this cretin already.

Sasha was left standing there stricken, feet glued to the floor. Anne might as well have slapped her across the face to achieve the same effect.

A determined scowl of her own soon spread across her features. You can’t say she hadn’t tried.

She drew the twin swords from her belt and assumed her dueling position.

“Anne, I can’t let you close that gate!”

“Oh yeah...?”

Anne roared, leaping through the air, sword unsheathed and aimed at Sasha’s head.

“JUST TRY TO STOP ME!”

Any swordsman worth their salt should know better than to leave themselves exposed like Anne just did. Sasha had a clear open to cut her in two instead of blocking her strike with both swords if she had so chosen.

To Anne’s credit, she wasn’t nearly as foolhardy as she had been when she first arrived in Amphibia. Right now, however, as they flew around the tower and did battle with the ferocity of dueling birds of prey, Sasha could plainly see it was Anne’s anger guiding her sword.

Anne was hostile, her moves unpredictable. Toad Tower didn’t have nothin’ on this. She wasn’t an exceptionally skilled fighter, neither of them realistically could be when you consider they’d both only first taken up the sword months ago. Still, there was underlying talent between them, and in Anne’s case, hers was currently being amplified by a seemingly bottomless well of passionate fury, which encouraged every last nerve to screw her courage to the sticking place.

She was actively going for the kill.

Narrowly dodging a plunge from her sword and, holding both her own in one hand, Sasha reached the other between Anne’s arms to grip her by the shoulder.

“Anne, stop this!” she begged through gritted teeth. “Marcy—”

“SHUT YOUR LYING MOUTH!!”

Anne freed herself by kicking Sasha in the chest with her socked foot. The collision of her unprotected sole against the metal breastplate hurt like all get out, but she wasn’t going to allow a trivial thing like pain stop her from taking a fatal swing at her opponent’s golden head.

Cat-like reflexes were what saved Sasha from getting scalped. If there was any hope in her mind that Anne couldn still be reasoned with, it was surely dashed now.

None of the paths leading out of this graceful dance of death were great. Simply keeping up her defenses and waging a war of attrition until Anne’s wild attacks inevitably tired her out wasn’t going to work. Whatever it was fueling Anne’s rampage, she didn’t look to be running out of it any time soon. Every parry, thrust and dodge drained a little bit more of Sasha’s stamina. She couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

Frog knows she couldn’t rely on those toads to drag their warty butts through the stinking gate already!

Unless she was able to disarm Anne and fast, the only other option was to meet her viciousness in kind with expectedly grime results. Her training with Grime had taught her that every sword fight was already a potential life or death situation, regardless if you lacked the intent to harm, but however much they’d literally been at each other’s throats, Sasha was not prepared to have Anne’s blood on her hands.

An idea hit just as she arched her back away from a swing that easily could’ve taken her head off. Muscle tissue developed over years of cheerleader practice kicked into gear and in those vital seconds, Sasha flawlessly pulled off a handstand and kicked the sword out of Anne’s hand. The blade plummeted to the city streets below.

That should have been the end of it. With her opponent disarmed, Sasha felt the adrenaline rush sustaining her crash. Her lungs were on fire. Pink and Green suddenly felt ten times heavier in her damp palms. She truly couldn’t have gone on a moment longer.

Unfortunately, Anne was nowhere near spent. In an act of near superman-levels of varsity athleticism, slid behind Sasha, grabbed the hem of her cape and jumped over her head.

Before Sasha was able to register what in the ever-lovin’ Frog just happened, Anne had already tied the cape over her eyes. She barely even had a chance to flail like a dizzy ballerina when Anne’s fist smashed her in the face!

It was a blow powerful enough to send her spinning across the tower. She landed flat on her face, not an ounce of strength left in her muscles to pick herself back up. It was miraculous she didn’t black out then and there.

All that happened around her next was a mad din of noise. She made out the slam of what must have been Anne finally closing the gate. Then someone somewhere sounded a horn, followed by a voice she dreaded to hear more than anything else.

“Royal Newt Guard! Assemble!”

Oh Frog! They’d already freed the king! Anne must’ve sent the rest of her frog family or worse, Marcy to free him from his cell. She’d been so focused on stopping Anne, she didn’t even factor in what the others were doing.

Anne’s smug tone reached her ears, “End of the line, Sash.”

Sasha crawled up to the ledge on her belly. She tore the cape off her head, scattering it to the wind.

What she saw only confirmed her worst fears. Sprig standing atop a knocked out Grime on the roof below. Newt guards were rounding up her soldiers left and right; the tadpole’s giant robot was holding a bunch of them in its mechanical arms.

Then she saw her, a perky smile plastered on her face, shooting a ‘mission accomplished’ thumbs up at Anne.

“Oh no.”

[angel-tries-to-write]

Bloody favor

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan Rating: Explicit Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Hanji Zoë Word count: 3204 Genre: smut, fluff

When Hanji suffers from menstrual pain, there's only one person who can help them.

Sometimes Hanji joked, that if only they could do more experiments on Eren without hurting him, they would be able to get to know titans so well, they could predict the times they attack. Levi would always roll his eyes and say that it would be very convenient, yet very impossible as well, since the titans weren't much known for thinking, with the obvious exception for shifters. Unfortunately for him, the crazy scientist wasn't the type to give up on their theories, until proven wrong, besides that would be a wonderful ability, to predict the attack and being able to properly prepare for it. Hanji felt it on a personal level, knowing there is a certain pattern to their behavior would made all their lives and fight less stressful, and stress was the last thing they needed.

Their body was acting weird recently, it felt uncomfortable, heavy and tired all the time, their personality has changed as well, they always were impulsive and short tempered, but the past few days have proven that their patience was very short, to the point that when Nanaba joked that maybe they are pregnant, she barely dodged a particularly heavy book Hanji threw at her. Not that it was impossible, those hot nights with Levi might or might not had something to do with that, even if none of them would ever admit something was between them. But Hanji knew better, Nana's stupid joke didn't make them paranoid, but they actually connected the dots: it wasn't pregnancy, but upcoming period.

And obviously, obviously, this thing always comes unwanted. It seems to have this annoying ability of picking the worst timing ever, especially when you were busy. Hanji knew that very well, they lived for long enough to experience menstrual bleeding in various moments and places they neither expected it nor wanted. Super important and absorbing experiment? Check. Boring but mandatory meeting? Check. Long expedition that was supposed to gain valuable information? Check. First secret date with Levi? Of course. If Hanji only wanted and cared enough, they could make a very impressive list of all the places and moments they started bleeding out of nowhere. And they hated it with passion.

It seemed like, at this point, the only inconvenient situation when this condition hadn't started, was a battle with titans. Obviously, with Hanji's luck in this field, it was nearly undoubted that it was only a matter of time. Yet as usual, they weren't thinking about such things, when the titans attacked, they took their gear and rushed to the Wall with no hesitation. Even though they felt tired, overwhelmed, and they really didn't want to move, Hanji knew it was their duty as a soldier. So they fought, they fought with passion and rage no one ever expected from them. For the first time they didn't care about the experiments, information, any scientific knowledge, all they wanted was to defeat the titans and go to sleep.

At some point, when they slaughtered their way through another titan's neck, its steaming blood splattered onto their face, blinding them temporarily. Hanji swore under their breath, pushed the goggles up to see anything at least and headed to the wall for a quick break. Of course, titan blood evaporates eventually, but they didn't have time to wait until this happens, so they had to clean the goggles manually.

“Squad leader! Are you okay?” Moblit screamed, running in their direction, as Hanji took the goggles off their head, to properly wipe them.

“As okay as I can be in the middle of the battle, thank you” they answered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You're bleeding, four eyes” this time Levi spoke, though his voice was perfectly calm in comparison to Moblit's.

“I don't have time to bleed. Tell me where, so I can ignore it” Hanji did their best to look at him angrily, but they couldn't even see his face, so it was a challenge.

“Your pants” he pointed out. Hanji looked down to see a pretty large crimson pool, staining their white pants. Perfect. They should have expected that. It would also explain the constant pain in their abdomen they were experiencing.

“Oh for fuck's sake, not now” they groaned. Hanji wasn't swearing often, only when they were really tired or angry. “Fuck it, I'll take care of this later.”

“Maybe you should—”

“Don't you fucking dare to tell me what I should, unless you have more experience with periods than I have, shorty!” they snapped at Levi, very efficiently making him shut up. He knew that angry Hanji was the scariest person in the world. Apparently Moblit didn't, so he opened his mouth, but Levi elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don't even try, you'll only make them angrier” he said quietly. Meanwhile Hanji finished cleaning their goggles and they could see again, so they rushed back to fight. But as they landed on a rooftop of one of the smaller buildings, they could hear another person landing behind. They knew these footsteps too well to not figure out who followed them.

“I swear, one comment and you're dead” they growled, certainly not in the mood for bickering and jokes.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, approaching his partner. Hanji could see concern in his usually cold eyes. At first they wanted to yell at him, but they knew it wasn't going to help anyone.

“Yes” they sighed, leaning against the wall of the nearby, taller building, massaging their stomach in hope of easing the cramps.

“What I was going to suggest was that maybe you should go back and take some rest. I know it's your duty to fight” he quickly added, before they could interrupt him. “But just like injured soldiers, you only cause risk for yourself and the others by not being in your best shape.”

“I'm not injured. It's nothing, I can fight” they protested. Levi stepped forward and pinned them against the wall.

“Your pain is blinding you. Don't you see? All you've been doing is flying around and slashing titans like a maniac. That's not you, Hanji” he said and they could easily tell he was scared.

“Then what do you think I'm supposed to do? Rest comfortably while my squad and friends are fighting, bleeding and dying? Guess what, I can fight and bleed and not die” they stated angrily.

“Alright, then I'm going to have to use the more drastic methods” he leaned in and kissed them. But Hanji was not having it, they pushed him away as fast as they could.

“Are you out of your mind?! Someone might see us!” they scolded him furiously.

“Let them see, I don't care. You need relief from pain. Then I'm at your service” he smirked suggestively and put his hand on their thigh. “My body is yours, all you have to do is to use it the way you desire” he offered, pointing at himself.

“Fuck you” they spat angrily, but their blush was an obvious evidence they loved this idea, just maybe not in this place and timing.

“Excellent answer, now come and do it yourself.”

“Later” they sighed defeated, knowing fully well they couldn't resist him for long. “Once we're finished here, we can discuss your generous offer” they gave him a quick kiss and used their ODM gear to get to the other side of the area. Luckily the battle was soon to be won, after that, when they took care of the wounded and dead, Hanji could finally rest. The insides of their thighs were stained with various shades of brown and red from dried and fresh blood, and their body hurt, so all they dreamed about was a bath, a massage and, oh yes, almost naked Levi waiting for them with an already prepared bath.

“Ah, finally, you decided to show up. I thought I'd have to go and drag your dirty ass here.”

“I don't deserve you” Hanji said quietly, their eyes filled with tears.

“Less talking, more undressing. There's a bucket with cold water we have to put your bloody clothes in” he approached them and started to help them get out of ODM straps, then clothes. “Why didn't you change? I imagine it must have been very uncomfortable to wear this for that long. What did I tell you about self care?” he asked while working on taking out all the straps.

“I know, I was going to, but there was so much to do and so many people to take care of, that I didn't have time to even think about myself” Hanji explained, unable to look him in the eyes, they felt like they failed him.

“You really have to learn to care about yourself, shitty glasses” Levi said, his tone was difficult to read, even though Hanji knew him so well.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize to me. You did harm only to yourself” he said softly, kissing their neck. It tasted like sweat and dirt, which meant Hanji really needed that bath. He helped them undress completely, trying to be gentle. “Are you still in pain?”

“Yes. But I also want you so bad right now” they admitted, shamelessly staring at his chest. They were so close that they didn't even need glasses.

“Are you sure?” he asked, getting rid of his own remaining clothes. “I don't want to cause you more pain.”

“Really? That's what you care about?” Hanji raised their brow in confusion.

“What else should I?” he took a cloth, dipped it in water, kneeled for better view and started to clean all the blood on Hanji's thighs.

“Don't you think it's disgusting? And dirty?” they asked hesitantly. “Like... even more than a regular sex?”

“There's nothing that can't be cleaned later. Just like I do it now” he wiped dried blood off their skin, proving his point.

“Are you sure? I mean, cleaning is one thing, but sex?”

“Hanji... Don't make me say sappy shit” Levi sighed.

“Say it. I know you hate it, but maybe that's what I need right now” they leaned against the bathtub, to let him get a better access to their legs and crotch.

“Alright. But if you laugh, there will be consequences” he warned them. “I've heard once, that a true warrior is not afraid of a little blood on his sword, and I pretty much agree with this sentence. I don't like it, but I can handle it” he said with his eyes focused on Hanji's leg, too embarrassed to look up and meet their eyes.

“That's... disgustingly sweet.”

“Also ridiculous and pathetic.”

“Yeah. Don't do it again.”

“Don't worry, I'm not going to. But what I mean is that if you need me, I don't care about anything but your comfort” Levi stated, putting the cloth in the bucket with cold water, with Hanji's pants and underwear. He sat back on his heels and looked up, waiting for their move.

“You look really hot right now. I love to see you on your knees” they smirked, biting their bottom lip.

“Oh, I can imagine. I like to see you in this position too” he replied, there was a spark in his eyes.

“I feel almost bad I won't be able to properly use this position” Hanji lowered themself onto his lap, straddling him, then wrapped their arms around his neck. “Almost” they whispered and kissed him. Levi returned the kiss with passion, one hand entangled in their messy hair, the other caressing their buttcheek. Hanji's hand slid down his chest and perfect abs, but hesitated and only barely brushed his hardening penis. “Are you sure you want it?” they asked, looking him in the eyes.

“Yes. Now touch me, Hanji” he growled and captured their lips in another hungry kiss. The timing was perfect, just when he did it, he could feel his partner's hand on his dick, which made him moan in their mouth. He squeezed their butt in response, but that made Hanji break the kiss.

“Just be gentle, alright? My body is quite sensitive and not in the nice way. Especially my boobs, try to avoid touching them, it hurts” they asked and Levi nodded in response.

“Anything you want” he promised quietly and leaned his head on their shoulder, closing his eyes and focusing on pleasure they were giving him.

“Ass gripping is fine, besides you do it so well” Hanji purred, palming him for a while and waiting for their lover to tell them he's ready. Which he did, after a moment.

“I think that's enough. Do you want me to warm you up too?”

“Umm... no, you don't have to...”

“Hanji.”

“I...” they sighed, seeing his stare. “Yes, I do” they admitted.

“It's the first time I see you this shy and embarrassed. Even our first time wasn't this awkward” Levi noticed, his thumb found their clit almost immediately. Hanji gasped when he touched that little bundle of nerves. Period cramps made it difficult for them to actually feel the pleasure in its fullest, but their lover's magical hands were doing their job very well, making Hanji feel at least a little better.

“I wasn't bleeding during our first time. Neither I felt like shit” they explained, having difficulties with gathering their thoughts when Levi was touching them like that.

“Does it really matter that much to you? It's just some blood, no big deal” he peppered their jawline with kisses.

“We'll talk about it the next time it gets on your clothes” Hanji chuckled, but Levi pressed his hand harder, making them moan.

“Clothes are a different story. I don't happen to have any now, though” he noticed, tracing their skin with his fingers. “Besides, I don't mind getting dirty from time to time. As long as I'm with you” he confessed softly.

Hanji looked at him with these beautiful, big, brown eyes and pulled him in a passionate, breathtaking kiss, then pushed his hand away and connected their bodies by sliding themself on his cock. Both of them moaned into each other's mouth at the sensation. Levi pulled his lover closer, grabbing their thighs and ass firmly, to help them move with ease, once they were ready.

This act was quite different than their usual lovemaking, but also very familiar. Levi ignored his pleasure, focusing completely on giving all the control to Hanji. It was rare, usually the one who wanted domination had to fight for it, because both of them enjoyed being in control. Even when they felt like just leaning back and leaving most of the action to their partner, none of them liked to make it that easy. But this time he knew it was a necessity. Hanji needed relief and distraction from pain, not further discomfort, so he just had to let them do whatever they needed. It felt good for him too, so he didn't actually mind. And he obviously tried to help whenever they struggled with pace or angle. It was a quite weird, slightly uncomfortable and pretty awkward comfort sex, but no less sweet and loving than their usual intercourses. Slow pace might have felt less intense than rough and fast act, but it always allowed them to feel their bodies in a different way, to learn each other and to discover new sides of pleasure. They moved in slow, steady pace, even a little sloppy, their orgasms building up like glowing embers instead of burning flame and finally flooding them calmly like a lazy sea wave, instead of usual explosion. But they enjoyed it, that soft pleasure, so different, but still satisfying.

“You were right. I needed it” Hanji panted, hiding their face in a crook of Levi's neck.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, embracing his partner.

“Yeah. I don't feel pain for now” they answered with a small smile.

“Good. We can take a bath and go to sleep” he decided, kissing his lover's shoulder and caressing their butt and thighs. “Come on, you deserve to rest after that battle.”

“You too, captain” Hanji lazily slid off him. “That looks scary” they said, staring at his cock and lap, which were covered with their menstrual blood. Levi didn't say a word, he simply reached for the cloth he previously cleaned Hanji with and wiped himself, then his lover.

“There” he gave them a quick kiss. “Now get your pretty ass into the bathtub, or I'll throw you there myself.”

“You think I have a pretty ass?” Hanji echoed, surprised by his words.

“Of course I do, you have a lovely ass” he stood up with a little difficulty, his legs were getting numb because of this position.

“Your ass is lovely too” they smiled, standing up as well. It felt really tempting to annoy Levi further, but Hanji decided they're too tired for this and stepped into the bathtub as he told them.

After a quick bath, they both headed to Hanji's room. They tried to hide their relationship, but it was common among the veterans to seek comfort in someone else, it didn't necessarily mean they were dating. It became clear after one time, when all of them woke up in a giant pile in Erwin's room, after a particularly rough expedition. It was the day when the commander allowed to bend the rules for their all mental health. It turned out to be extremely helpful. Just when Levi and Hanji were sneaking through the hallway, they heard a scream. It was Nanaba. But before the couple could react, they heard Miche's voice and screaming stopped. She had a nightmare again and he had to calm her down, sometimes in a quite drastic way, like yelling at her first, because nothing else but shock would work, only then he could hug her, when she was aware what is real and what is not. Hanji and Levi exchanged pitying glances, on top of everything they all had been through, Nana had a terrible childhood. Levi knew exactly how she felt, he wasn't surprised she couldn't sleep well, though sharing a bed with someone else was really helpful. Usually she would come to Hanji or Moblit, but recently she started to sleep only with Miche and surprisingly, her nightmares became even less frequent and less intense. Just like Levi's insomnia eased a lot since he started to share bed with Hanji. No one questioned why or how it was working, it just was and everyone simply accepted it.

Finally they reached the room and crawled into the bed. Or at least they tried. Hanji just groaned as they collapsed ungracefully onto the mattress, too exhausted to even cover themself with a blanket. Levi had to do it for them, as he placed himself behind their back, to massage their stomach.

“You're the best, Levi” they whispered. “I don't know what would I do without you.”

“Go to sleep, Hanji” he kissed their neck and nestled himself comfortably. He didn't have to tell them twice, they dozed off a moment later. Levi looked at them for a while, before closing his own eyes. He hated to see them in pain, but he was slightly happier, knowing he could help them even a little.

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 8

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2345

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

What Murtagh said and how he stared at you was quite unsettling, what could you possibly mean by a ‘woman’ taking care of Jamie? You were quite sure Laohaire was a woman and could take nice care of Jamie. That thought didn’t settle well either, but you couldn’t understand why. It felt like it was something you had buried deep in your soul, so deep you could only focus on getting back home to your family – Davy. When you were preparing for the gathering, you tried to think about what your brother was doing and whether he felt alone or abandoned. The guilt of your lack of fight or focus on getting home crept into your body and weighed you down.

Angus entered the surgery, “Lass, the festivities are about to be going, let’s make our way up.”

You nodded at him and started to walk up, “Do I look like I’ll fit in up there?”

“You’ll fit in plenty enough, enough for a colony lass,” he muttered to you. “Just stay out of trouble, I’ve got my mind on-.”

You rolled your eyes, putting your hand to stop in from continuing, “Angus, I get you want to find a lady and I promise to not get in the way. I still got a ton of work to do before tomorrow’s hunt. I do not plan to stay long, which is what I told Mrs. Fitz. The laird gave me a job, I intend to do well.”

“Just do as your told,” he pushed you forward. You fought every bone and muscle in your body not to thrash him about. No matter the effort, you could not win the trust of some of the people here Angus and Dougal included. You could only kill someone with kindness so much before you take someone’s throat out with your fists.

Mrs. Fitz passed by you, “You look lovely in that dress, my dear. I told you, now some man will come and sweep you up, though I’ll hate to see the day someone takes you from us.”

You could see Murtagh rolling his eyes, as you looked down at the people prepping from the oath ceremony. You bit the inside of your cheek, “Mrs. Fitz, I told you. I do not intend to marry, I have a family waiting for me back by Inverness. I’m just buying my time.”

“That reminds me, Gale Allister left your payment in the kitchen by the flour. Thought it was best she avoids the surgery with all your business getting ready for hunt,” she shared with you.

“Thank you Mrs. Fitz, I’m not sure what I’d do without you,” you half hugged her. You tried to ignore the suspicious look from Murtagh. You had been finding little chores and such to help the community here, as well earn money that will help foster your escape home. “Murtagh, where is Mister McTavish? I’d assume he’d be here for the oath taking.”

Murtagh glanced down at you, trying to avoid making too much eye contact with you, “Leave the man be right now. He’s best to be not seen during the swearing ceremony. I feel you’ve tortured the man enough for a life time.”

“What are you on about, I do not torture anyone?” Collum entered the room starting the ceremony with Dougal. It was actually quite beautiful, full of tradition, and honor.

“You’re torturing me right now, lass,” Murtagh grumbled under his breath.

Mrs. Fitz pinched Murtagh’s arm to shush him, “If they are all the same, I’m off to get more work done. Keep me posted Mrs. Fitz,” you kiss her cheek and skip away to your work space. Angus caught sight of you and followed, “Angus, I pinky swear I will not wonder away and get you in trouble with Dougal.”

He gripped her arm, “No, no, no – you have to stay up here until I find a lady-.”

“Too much Angus, too much,” you stopped him quickly. “Here,” you pass Angus a necklace given to you by your mother, “This is my necklace given to me by mom before she died.” Angus looked immediately concerned you were going to get emotional, “As long as you hold that necklace, I’m not going anywhere. Go enjoy the gathering.”

He looked at the necklace in his hand to you, “You sneak off girl, I’ll gut you. Stay in the surgery, no wandering off like you like to.”

You put your two fingers up like you were a scout. Angus gave you a strange look before motioning you down to the surgery, “Angus,” you called to him, he looked back at you quickly, “You lose that, I promise no laird will stop me from taking your balls.”

He waved you off, laughing to himself, “A lady with a mouth like yours.”

You were only partially concerned Angus would lose your necklace. You had made your way to the surgery, but stopped on the last stair. You had already prepared for the hunt with your materials and such. You didn’t want to stay at the ceremony because it made you think of your past with the Marines and your brother with your traditions. Davy would be so impressed by seeing some of his heritage. He would probably love this whole experience. Think of the hunt the next day, you grew sick and worried. You were never a hunter; you had a soft spots for most animals. You had trouble killing spiders, though your history with war was quite the contradiction. Your brother constantly made fun of you for it. The thought of animals made you think of your horse. Your promised Angus you would stay put, but it’s not like you planned to escape. You just wanted to drop off your medical supplies and check on your horse. The stable hand made it seem like your horse wasn’t part of the elite, which made you like her more.

On the way to the stables, you used your military expertise to get past the men. You didn’t need Angus to find out you lied to him. A few drunken clansmen tried to take advantage of you being an alone woman. This immediately made you pissed for the lady folk in the area, the amount of women who had to be assaulted made you sick. One guy had gotten a swipe at you and your lip was bleeding. You made it to the stables, nursing your lip. You were going to take your time getting back to the surgery, this was probably the safest place for you outside your surgery space. Lost in your thoughts of consequences, you tripped over a mass. You rolled onto your back with a knife in hand, pressing it to the neck of a person and they were doing the same to you, “Deoiridh.” Jamie immediately released you, sitting up to give you space, “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask the same to you, sir,” you shot back at him. Your temper was rising with the amount of times you had to keep your guide up during this time period. Jamie stared at you a little longer than you liked, he was hoping for a better answer, “I was checking on my horse for the hunt. I have a soft spot for her and I wanted to drop off my stuff now, so I wouldn’t have to have hungover Angus complaining in the morning.”

Jamie chuckled to himself, “Thoughtful lass.” He paused for a second, “Y/N, you alright?” He put his hand up, leaning in closer to get a look at your bleeding lip, “Did that just happen,” he asked with guilt seeping off his voice.

He took out some cloth and tried to dab at your lip, “I had an issue coming over here with some clansmen,” you mumbled, trying to find the right words. You didn’t need Jamie telling Collum of your violent assault to some of their men. You didn’t kill them, but they will probably be concussed and be missing the hunt the next day.

He shot up, “Did they,” he pulled you up to closer inspect you.

You pushed him back gently, “No, no.” You hesitated and tried to figure out the best way to share it with him, “I knocked them out before anything could happen.”

Jamie’s laugh filled the room, finally dulling down to lean against the horses pen, “You’re a deadly woman Deoiridh. I’ve seen you teaching some stuff to the kids, but I didn’t think you could take out Mackenzie men without more than a busted lip. You sure your alright,” he tried to cup you neck again to look closer at your lip.

His hands were rough, but it a way you’ve never felt. It was like your body was on fire, but wanting to crave more it. Electricity surges your body, “I’m fine,” you whispered, “I’ve had plenty worse.”

“These men are lucky you got to them first,” he said trying to relax his jaw. You should tell a piece of him was bothered by you being attacked. Something inside him wanted to crash out of the stables and slaughter the men who would do such damage to his friend, at least that’s what you were telling yourself.

“Murtagh mentioned you weren’t going to the ceremony for the gathering,” you reached into your bag, “I was going to stop by your hut, residence place,” you weren’t sure what to call his little bed area. You passed him some food from the kitchen.

He shook his head, “Again with the thoughtfulness, you seem to care an awful lot about my wellbeing.”

“Shut up,” you shove him as he laughs at you. You could see he was trying to get a raise out of you since you pushed him to talk to Laoghaire, “You’re my friend Jamie. You were the first one who was nice to me here, well before you tossed me over your shoulder and proceeded to act like chauvinistic tool.”

He grinned at you, “Well, you are probably the most unique, thoughtful, and caring women I know. Besides when you are prodding me and calling me mean names.” He put the bag of food down next to his makeshift bed, “We should get you back to the castle, I bet Angus won’t be taken to kindly to your journey to the stables.”

“I can get back on my own. Murtagh told me to leave you alone, something about the ceremony, which is none of my business,” you mumbled away, trying to push whatever you are feeling way down. “I took down three clansmen and you, I think I can get back on my own,” you look down at Jamie sitting on the ground.

He pulled himself up towering over you, “Me,” he questioned, “I think I’d remember you taking me anywhere,” he pulled your shawl tighter to your body. “Now let’s go, me walking you back is not up for debate.”

You rolled your eyes and jogged up next to him, “Suit yourself, but Murtagh doesn’t like me enough as it is. If you get caught or whatever, I’m not to blame you tell him that.”

Jamie stopped you at the door, leaning in close to your face to whisper, “Murtagh likes you plenty, believe me if he didn’t like you he’d ignore you. Now let’s go before you get me caught.”

“Jamie,” you whispered harshly, holding tightly on the back of his shirt waddling after him. With your face slightly pressed to his back as you both giggled out the stables, there was something about his smell. You’d assumed he’d smell like most rotting, sweating men. Being in the marines and being in the desert for long periods of time, you were pretty much used to it. But it was different with Jamie, your psychology background pushed towards his manly man pheromones. You pushed those thoughts away and tipped toed with Jamie through the McKenzie camp. You and Jamie got back to your work space without Angus knowing any different. You stood at the bottom of your stairs, looking up at the now ever more towering Jamie, who was grinning down at you, “Do you think you can get back without being caught, remember what I said about Murtagh, you wanted me to be nice and make friends?”

He looked down, trying to hold back his amused expression, “Yeah, I think I’ll manage.”

“When are you going to tell me why you are avoiding being seen during the gathering, aren’t they your family,” you questioned, trying to change the subject to something less flirty.

“It’s a bit complicated, maybe one day I’ll tell you. But for now, I’m off before I get you into trouble with Murtagh. You should go up and spend some time with the clan, it might be worth learning a bit more,” he gestured up the stair. He leaned closer again, “Maybe you can butter up Murtagh, get on his sweet side.”

“What sweet side,” you countered. Jamie shook his head, trying his best to not be amused by you, “Plus, I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea. He isn’t really my type.”

The look he gave you in that moment was something you rarely got to see in men, “What exactly is your type.”

“Not a dumb brute really, I’m not a picky woman,” you shrug walking further away from Jamie’s glances.

“That I don’t believe for a second. Try to stay out of trouble, hate you save you from Angus again,” Jamie started to make his way up the stairs.

“Jamie,” you call up to him, he turns to look at you one more time before he gets on his way to his hide away, “I never need saving.” Again, he held back a smirk, before trying back up the stairs again. You didn’t know how he did it, but you got to you again with those stupid hidden smiles and teasing. It’s like he knew exactly what to say to get a rise out of you.  

Part 9

 Taglist:  @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans @slytherinambitious @kinky-asher

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 4

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed​

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Four: A Little Lost, A Little Found

Elain was in Lockhart Manor. Elain was currently sleeping a few doors down the hallway. Elain, his mate, was here. Elain-

“Oh, shut up,” Lucien groaned to his own mind, as he rolled over with more vigour than necessary. But there was little hope of sleep finding him tonight, not when he felt so energised and awake. Not only did Lucien feel the bond, taut and invigorated in-between his ribs, but he could still smell Elain, that Spring morning clear in his mind.

What was she doing here? What had changed?

Had she come for him?

Of course not. Right?

Lucien rolled over again, allowing a small snarl of frustration to rip from his lips. If Lucien knew Elain a little better then maybe he’d actually be able to talk to her and ask her these questions. But he didn’t know her, and he wasn’t her friend.

Maybe she’d come to break the bond. That had to be it. Given his luck his entire life it was outrageous to believe that his mate who he hadn’t spoken to for two years had travelled the country to be under the same roof as him, to work alongside him, to go to meetings by his side as his…colleague?

He just wanted to talk to her. One clear conversation where he wasn’t holding back, when he didn’t care about every word both spoken and unspoken. One conversation where he could be the silver-tongued fox he’d been before any Archeron had entered his life. But around Elain he was a fool. A hopeless, romantic fool.

Oh, how Tamlin would’ve goaded him over this. Lucien, who had taken lovers to his bed as though he was being paid, unable to even conjure more than a sentence in front of a female. Well, old Tamlin would’ve laughed at him – with him. Old Tamlin would’ve laughed, period. Now…Now he was another thing in Lucien’s life that had turned to poison.

It was only last week, after Nyx’s arrival, that Lucien received a letter from Rhysand detailing his new assignment in the Spring Court. He’d been able to delay such work thus far, but by the end of the week he was expected in Spring. Following that, the plan was to manipulate his way into alternating weeks between the Spring and Lockhart Manor.

Would he leave Elain here? Could he convince her to somehow come with him to Spring?

She’d love it there, not just the proper and neat gardens of the Spring Manor (or what was left of their civilisation) but also the rugged fields and forests. Spring Court was violent with life. It was a pandemonium of flora, every single plant one could possibly find in Prythian could be found somewhere in the battlefield of the Spring lands. The overwhelming, erratic terrain was exactly where Lucien saw Elain thriving.

If he took her maybe she’d love it. She’d most likely take clippings or, or maybe not. Maybe she would just stay for a moment, and enjoy existing in such a place, her gentle hands refusing to intervene with the beautiful, wild course of nature. Maybe she’d lie down in the fields, maybe she’d go swimming with him in the pools of starlight. One day, far, far, far into the future.

Maybe she’d smile – a real, genuine smile. Lucien believed he still had yet to experience the privilege of seeing such a phenomenon.

The voice of the bond had quietened in his mind, along with the voice which seemed to come from deeper down, the one that told Lucien exactly how much shit he was in given the size of the schoolboy crush he’d somehow developed. But still, there was little chance of Lucien finding more than a few hours of sleep.

And so, with his body alive and electric, Lucien did what he had been doing for the past two years. Lucien wrote a letter - one that was never, ever, intended to be read.

***

Breakfast was awkward. Surely it wasn’t always this awkward, not with the glint in Jurian’s smile and the steel in Vassa’s glare. Lucien seemed…bemused, he appeared to be glaring at his toast and eggs as though they contained some secret prophecy that he needed to decipher.

She was curious about the particulars of Vassa’s curse, about how she knew when the change was coming. Did it happen always at sunrise? How much time did she have to prepare? Was it the workings of the death lord’s magic, or his deal? She was especially curious given that one of her tasks being down here was to help undo Vassa’s ties to the death lord, not that she was sure the Band of Exiles were aware of that given her sister’s ruined letter.

It was Vassa’s stoic silence that kept Elain from opening her mouth. That and a million other worthless reasons.

It was Vassa’s stoic silence that kept Elain from opening her mouth. That and a million other worthless reasons.

“Is there something you wish to ask me, Ms Archeron?” Vassa eventually spoke into the unbearable silence, perhaps aware of the frequency of Elain’s not so inconspicuous side-glances. Elain fought the blush as glared at her plate.

“Elain, please…” maybe she was being paranoid, but the way everyone here kept stressing her title felt like an awful lot like a reminder of the title she was supposed to have in these lands. The life she was supposed to have, the husband, the house, now it all felt so foreign.

“Really, we should be calling her Lady,” Jurian smiled, his own breakfast consisting of a single orange and a small goblet of black coffee, a delicacy of the Night Court he’d bought in bulk.

“Perhaps…if we were in Prythian,” Vassa said non-committedly.

“Titles do not interchange between borders, even human borders,” Lucien spoke up suddenly, his voice sounded causal and polite, but his figure had gone rigid, and his eyes were burning as they rested on Vassa who seemed to shiver slightly under his gaze. Elain adverted her gaze, an ugly feeling flashing through her like lightening. She’d been avoiding looking at him for most of the meal, desperate to ignore how she’d noticed that he’d changed.

“Lady Elain…” Vassa began, her eyes still locked with Lucien’s and Elain felt a furious blush warm her cheeks. God she was so…angry. Stupid mating bond. “Last night you asked me to discuss with you how you maybe be of some use whilst working with us,” Vassa’s eyes found hers from where she was seated at the head of the table, Jurian and Lucien either side of her, Elain next to Jurian. “Well tonight we’re having dinner and talks at the Nolan’s residence-”

“Which of course you won’t be forced to attend,” Lucien ground out, glaring at the queen who just shrugged and reached for the syrup.

“We’ll be discussing all manner of important things; it would be a brilliant opportunity for Elain to familiarise herself with those who she’ll be working in close quarters with for the foreseeable future.”

“These dinners are of little consequence,” Lucien’s eyes flickered to Elain’s for a moment before his gaze returned to the queen and Elain felt something inside her crack. It was as though he couldn’t look at her for more than a second, that or he couldn’t bear to look away from the queen. “I don’t even bother with attending.” Lucien directed at the queen.

“There’s ample opportunity for Elain to make acquaintances elsewhere,” Jurian said through a yawn, leaning back with a stretch. But Elain didn’t miss how his eyes appeared to rove over his two fiery-haired companions. Mother, how she wished they would stop talking about her rather than with her. If she wanted to be discussed at the table as though she were a child she might as well have stayed in the Night Court.

“I’m grateful for the offer but today I was hoping to have a look over the current contracts and ensure they’re meeting the timeline Feyre had drawn for you. Once I can ensure the work you’ve done thus far meets the standards of my High Lady then I’ll know what to both expect and push for with the human councils.” The words flowed out of Elain in an orderly manner, in the exact way she’d practiced as she fell asleep the night prior.

Unlike the Night Court, it was clear Elain was going to have to fight and demand for her own voice and seat at the table. Here, with the Band of Exiles, no one would coddle her. So, she’d either have to stay in the shadows, or step into the light.

Besides, there wasn’t enough gold in the world that would make Elain step a single foot in the Manor that would’ve been her home, once upon a time.

Vassa opened her mouth to say something before shutting it and turning back to her plate, a firm line carved in between her brows. Jurian was glancing around the table with a shit-eating grin and Lucien, the tension in his body had seemed to ease and after a small moment, he took a large mouthful of food.

“Are there, um, any other gatherings I may be able to attend, later in the week?” Elain tried to shake the nervousness from her voice. She couldn’t let these three see her as someone able to be pushed to the side. She needed this.

“There has been weekly meetings with all the human lords,” Lucien said after swallowing, his eyes meeting hers in a way that drew the breath from her body, “Huckleberry Hall is where we’ve been hosting the crowds-”

“The house by the old creek?” Elain couldn’t stop herself from interrupting, her mother would’ve pinched her thigh under the table for such poor manners. But it was just so alarming, to hear the residencies of her childhood come out of Lucien’s mouth. He’d always felt so far and distant, and yet, he was familiar with the lands she’d grown up in. Though she wouldn’t admit it, it made her wish she knew about him. His upbringing.

“That’s the one,” Lucien’s smile was soft and warm and…genuine. “We’re having a meeting there the day after tomorrow. If you wish, you’re most welcome to attend, it’s where the most current information is, and the meeting will give you’re a formal opportunity to meet with our human colleagues. I was heading there today anyways to meet with their cartographer, if you…well, if you’d like to…accompany me?”

“Yes I, uh, I don’t know the way to Huckleberry from here,” Elain was far to aware of two sets of human eyes boring into her at that moment.

“Yes,” Lucien blinked. Not quite a statement. Not quite a question, either. “Yes…good, yes. We’ll set off at first light then...”

Elain just nodded. Not trusting her voice to speak.

***

They were walking in silence.

As Lucien at promised, at first light he’d met Elain at the Lockhart’s front door, his hands behind his back as he waited at the bottom of the stairs. Elain had taken a moment to assess his clothes before she had to look away. He was wearing a loose brown shirt, dark trousers and brown boots. It was a perfect outfit for the summer morning, with the thick air and dewy sunlight. But it was the sight of his crimson hair, tied in a loose bun at the nape of his neck, a few whisps framing the sharp angles of his face, that had Elain looking away.

Lucien seemed to still as she came into view, quickly saying goodbye to Nuala who turned and made her way back up the stairs, and Elain turned to watch her go, giving Lucien a chance to look her over. Her dress was a plain cream, and was of a simple cut that could pass in both human and fae realms – a cunning choice of clothing he thought. The neckline was perhaps a little daring for the human communities which was hilarious given that all one could see of Elain was her collarbones, but the full skirts were the same of the women he’d seen in these lands.

It was her hair he lingered on. Even when bouncing with curls it came down to her waist. Intricate braids pulled most of it away from her face and Lucien could spot pale flowers in a variety of sizes perched at the crown of her head. Real flowers, nothing like the faux pieces the humans tended to favour. She was…divine. Impossible. Beyond him, in every conceivable way.

“You ready?” He tried smiling at her, but it felt as though it came across more of a grimace.

“Hm mm,” Elain bowed her head, a faint blush colouring her cheeks as her curls bounced. Gods, he was fucked.

Silence had fallen quickly over the duo, besides the odd ‘watch out for that root’ or ‘duck’ as they made their way into the forestry of the mortal lands. The path was clear until a certain junction, and then it became little more than a dirt path, only wide enough for them to walk single file. Lucien had wanted Elain to go first so that he’d be able to keep an eye on her, to keep her safe, until he remembered that she quite literally didn’t know where she was going.

Lucien had thought Elain would’ve been disgruntled by the shrubbery pulling at her fine dress, but Elain meandered through the forest in an expert fashion. She gathered her skirts in her hands and would hop with a doe-like grace over the greenery and roots. In fact, the only time he heard her disgruntled was when she’d accidentally stepped on some plant or flower – forever a lady of the forest.

It was only when Lucien was finding himself relax in their silence that disaster struck. Lucien’s foot snagged on something under a large fern that had grown over the path, and then there was an audible snap of leather. The noise was enough to set Lucien into action, with one arm, he unsheathed his Autumn sword and with the other he turned and pulled Elain into him, all sense and thought evaporating from his mind and being replaced with the single, overwhelming urge to ‘protect, protect, protect’.

But where Lucien had been prepared for an enemy of mortal body, their attack came from above. Lucien saw a glint of something dropping down on them at a furious pace and pulled Elain tighter to his chest, bending slightly at the waist so he covered her entirely, so that not one inch of Elain was visible to the attack from above.

But the attack never came, not quite. When Lucien span, turning to tuck Elain behind him as he faced the enemy, he came face to face with…a cage…of wood. Ashwood.

The cage arched over Lucien and Elain, and the wood was interwoven in a way that was reminiscent of the dog cages Eris had used for his Dobermans. It was hilarious really. Lucien and Elain, two fae, and highly powerful fae at that, caged in like a common pup.

Lucien was just scoffing at the cage when he felt Elain shift behind him. Turning around, Lucien just caught Elain as she reached out for the cage, perhaps in an attempt to shift the weak structure out of her way.

“Elain, don’t-” But it was too late, Elain had ran her hand along the edge of the meshed cage before pulling her arm back with a pained gasp. “Shit!” Lucien was by her side in a flash, one hand on her arm, tucking her away from the cage as though it were an enemy, and he were blocking her from view. His other hand went to her crumpled hand which was now throbbing as a furious burn puckered across the surface.

Looking down, Elan watched as Lucien turned and, without touching the damaged skin, assessed her injured palm.

“Fae trap,” Lucien growled, “many councils are encouraging their use now that the wall’s gone.”

“How horrible…” Elain whispered before surprise rattled through her. Three years ago she would’ve thought these traps necessary protection against the evil fae. But now, they just seemed cruel.

“Horrible for us and other civilised fae, but there are other creatures, particularly the southern woods of Spring, who one might argue deserve every bit of this treatment.” Lucien turned back to glaring at the cage, and if looks could burn Elain didn’t doubt that the wood – perhaps the whole forest – would be furiously ablaze.

“I…I don’t know if I’d call you civilised…” Elain finally murmured, allowing herself to momentarily give into the urge to soothe him, to let him know that she was okay. Lucien’s head whipped back around to her and, after a moment of assessing her soft expression, a coy smile that showed his perfect teeth pulled at his lips. Not a laugh, but a genuine smile.

“Was that a joke, Lady?”

“An attempt,” Elain couldn’t help but shyly duck away from his warm eyes and dimpled smile. “You know,” she changed the topic, “I can’t image these kinds of things would work.” She nodded up to the cage.

“When there’s Ashwood involved, anything’s possible.”

“I’ve seen fae on a battlefield,” she shuddered involuntarily, “Something like this,” she went to touch the cage before remembering and flinching her hand back, “seems hardly daunting.”

“Ashwood doesn’t work like an Illyrian, they’re all cock and walk, Ashwood is cunning and clever,” Lucien was glaring at the cage, his metal eye clicking and whirring as it roved over the trap.

“How can wood be cunning?”

“It’s a weapon, all weapons have personality.”

“Does your sword have personality?” Elain murmured, nodding at the silver blade she’d never seen him without.

“Well…since it comes from the Autumn Court, it would be safe to assume it’s the metal equivalent of a ruthless git.” Lucien shook his head, his crimson hair shifting in a stream of sunlight. “A human trapping a fae or two in some Ashwood is easy,” Lucien continued, “But then begs the question of what one would do from there.”

“Well, they’d have to lift the cage,”

“They’d be dead in seconds,” Lucien quipped, his head cocking to the side, whisps of his fiery hair following his movement. “Go on, don’t stop, think like a fae hunter.”

“I’d rather not,” Elain shivered slightly, very aware of how close Lucien was standing. Elain also didn’t fail in missing the dark shadow that passed through Lucien’s eye at the nod towards her ex-fiancé.

“Okay, then think like a fae.” Lucien swung his arms across his chest with a catlike grace, “You’re hunting, let’s see...an Attor, clearly feeling a little dangerous today. It’s walked right into your lovey cage of Ashwood, which let me say Lady Archeron, I must compliment you on your excellent lattice work.” Elain giggled and Lucien faltered in his speech, his eyes widening as he looked as though he’d struck gold. “So…” he cleared his throat, “You’ve trapped the Attor in your wonderful cage, then what?”

“Well, it depends on what I want an…At-tor, for?”

“Hm, interesting. Let’s say you need to cut out it’s tongue for a healing tonic.” Elain made a face, “Okay, okay, no tonics.”

“No tongues please.”

“Oh really?” Lucien couldn’t stop his shit-eating grin, especially when Elain began to blush furiously and avoid his eye. Something inside Lucien was racing, entirely giddy at the fact he was bantering with Elain, Elain, Archeron.

“The Attor?” Elain stressed, turning around and perching herself on a fallen trunk.

“Interrogation – you need vital information pronto, or the High Lord will have your head.”

“Rhysand?”

“Well if in this world you, Elain Archeron, are hunting an Attor, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to believe that I might be High Lord.”

“Of which court?”

“None of them. No, all of them. No wait, my own court – the ‘Lucien is incredibly handsome’ court.” Lucien was pushing his luck, that he knew. He was towing that line as always, the one between banter and a step too far. Saying something that would cause the other to retract from him, or carve out his eye. But Elain just tilted her head, her honey hair spilling across her pale dress.

“You have many devout followers in this court?”

“Maybe, but only one of them matters.” He grinned at her knowingly, testing the waters, seeing how far he could go with her before they remembered they were bonded by destiny. Something shy flickered across Elain’s face as she took in his meaning. And then.

“Are you peacocking right now?” Elain smiled, a real smile.

“I’m always peacocking,” Lucien grinned, a real grin. Then his eye caught on the hand Elain was still cradling to her chest, and something akin to agony tore through his chest.

“Mother, I’m sorry,” He muttered, his amusement having evaporated as he hurried to sit next to Elain, taking her ruined palm into his lap with a featherlight touch. “I can’t ever shut up. I just talk and talk and forget about the important things.”

“What are you doing?” Elain was sure he voice sounded somewhat strangled as Lucien zoned in on her mutilated palm, his metal eye whirring as he ran a single finger along it’s creases.

“I have the ability to heal,” Lucien’s voice also sounded a bit strained as he hunched himself over her hand.

“Oh…” Elain murmured, as a warm sensation prickled across her skin, and she watched as the red splotches clamed back into ivory. “You know,” Elain was practically whispering as Lucien moved to her fingers, “My skin never used to be this colour.”

“Oh?” Lucien seemed to be breathing through his mouth, and with is gaze occupied, Elain allowed herself to rove over his appearance. The knot of crimson hair, the strong yet angled brows, the white webs of his scar, prominent cheekbones, sharp jaw, full and wide lips, and a strong curved nose.

“No…” Elain breathed, “I always used to be so much tanner than my sisters, I was always in the gardens as we were growing up you see. My mother would ring me out for it. She’d love the colour I’m now.” The colour she’d been since the Cauldron. She didn’t know why she was telling him all this, or why it felt so natural to talk to him about these things. But here in the human lands, a world away from the sneers of Nesta or the gossiping of Feyre, Elain found that she didn’t mind the idea of conversing with Lucien.

“I was always the darkest out of my brothers,” Lucien moved to her second finger.

“How many do you have?”

“Seven,” Lucien met her eyes momentarily with a cheeky grin.

“Seven!” Elain smiled back, and then Lucien’s eyes seemed to darken and something in him seemed to rescind as he turned back to her hand.

“Well, I used to have seven…a few of them died.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” Lucien seemed to go to say something, his mouth turning into a frown, before he shook his head and moved to the next finger.

“I…my mother told it was because I’d been kissed by the Sun when I was born…that’s why I was so tan. I was born on the Autumn Equinox, it’s the longest day of autumn in the Autumn Court, the sun turns crimson and blesses the lands for the upcoming year.”

“That sounds very beautiful…”

“It is. It’s believed the trees come to life in the night and talk to each other, lovers of the earth able to speak for a few hours of the year. There’s feasts and fires, and we read stories of the sacrifice of the Wyvern.”

“Wyvern?” Elain’s yes turned bright and wide, “As in the animal from adventure novels?”

“Animal is an awfully polite term to describe harbinger’s of fire and death,” a grin flickered across Lucien’s face, “It’s believed that centuries and centuries ago, when the Old Gods still ruled the Earth, the Autumn Court was a nest of Wyverns. When the world changed into what it is today the mother Wyvern, Hermenegilda, scattered her cubs throughout time so that they may survive. Every year those of the Autumn Court gather in the caves to see if a cub will appear, and to praise the mother for her sacrifice.”

“Do they? The cubs, do they appear?”

“They used to, though a cub has not been found since before I was born. Courtiers tend to believe the cubs have run out, that there are no more children of the mother Wyvern, but devout believers still hope for a cub to appear each year.” With that, Lucien finished healing her pinkie finger and turned to peer at her. Their bodies still close, Elain’s palm still resting in his hand in his lap.

“You…what do you believe?” Elain breathed, her voice just a whisper.

“I think…well I…” Lucien’s voice was breathy and low, intimate in a way Elain hadn’t heard before, “...I’d like to believe that anything’s possible.”

Before Elain could have a moment to respond, or even think about what possible double meaning could come from his words, a furious flapping of wings caused her to startle and whip her head around, ripping her hand from Lucien’s lap in the process. There, on the other side of the cage, perched on a tree branch, was a beautiful bird. It was huge, with iridescent feathers and woody eyes, and the air surrounding the bird seemed to thrum with energy and magic.

“Don’t worry, it’s only Vassa.” Lucien nodded at the firebird, “…she’ll get Jurian for us.”

Elain just nodded, aware that her cheeks were still most likely flushed. Unable to meet Lucien’s eye, Elain watched as the firebird took off into the golden, mid-morning sky, a disapproving screech tearing from its throat.

[vespertineart]

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'*ੈ✩‧₊˚'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'*ੈ✩‧₊˚'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓲𝓽'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'*ੈ✩‧₊˚'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'*ੈ✩‧₊˚'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕘𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕗."

Jotaro kujo x Fem! reader

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★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・

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Life moves so fast. Too fast, for your liking. Maybe it's because your childhood wasn't the nicest, so you have wallowed in the sadness it brought you too much that you weren't aware of time, or the fact that you were so wrapped up in one future, you thought your life depended on nothing but academic purpose. At least then. Or maybe it's because you never realized how much you've wanted to do in your life until three years ago. You're still young, though a young adult, and you shouldn't be worried about the consequences of things you never did. Though, maybe they would affect you later on.

It's always been overwhelmingly depressing when you realize you can't relate to that flurrery feeling every one of your classmates told you about when bungee jumping or simply touching a manta ray. Never have you had the chance to visit a very famous amusement park because of how expensive it was. All of that would make you the odd one out in any friend group, which is why you never bothered to start a close friendship with someone.

However, this year was different. Let aside the fact that you missed out on all your school year's material, you experienced something far more exciting than anyone's ever had. Your mind still finds itself boggled by the sudden event. One second you're with your classmate who you knew nothing about at the time, and the next he's in jail, and you're with his grandfather trying nag get him out.

You can't even bring yourself to comprehend how you even got a grip on the whole situation, how you managed to have yourself thrown into the formula, from going to Egypt and saving Miss Holly, to fighting Dio and even almost dying with Kakyoin and Avdol who are currently in different hospitals. It all still feels so surreal.

Unconsciously, as you reminisce, your fingers brush the large scar that lays unveiled on the surface of your forearm, reaching from your wrist to your cheek, a few scabs still blanketing random edges on it. Soon, your hands found themselves reaching your currently broken and cast ankle. Your crutches lay limp on your leg. Your skin is cold, and so is the wind hitting it. For May, this is probably the longest it has taken to become warm.

"Oi, yn." You're snapped out of your daze when a certain deep voice calls out to you, a coherent tinge of worry trailing at the end of the person's greeting.

The all-familiar, stinging scent of cologne immediately assures you of who this person is. You let out a sigh, dipping your head down, eyes closed, a delightful sense of relief washing over you.

"Hey, Jojo. Thanks," you greet as you take a weak hold of the beer can your companion bought you. After a while of shuffling, both of you got your backs comfortable on the strong walls of the school's roof, taking in the cool wind as it brushes through your hair. The sun is set, but there is still a bit of sunlight left, it mixes beautifully with the soft white streetlights and spots of yellow, red and blue in the far distance which homes and billboards emit. If you focus enough, you can see a light silhouette of hills.

Jojo. Jotaro kujo. You recite that name on your tongue every night, sometimes in fear you might forget it. Some of his admirers despise you for it. For having the advantage of calling out to him whenever you want and he'd answer you, and only you. Your classmates say you're extremely lucky, like you've won a million-dollar bet for being his first and closest female friend. He's never down to open up, but from your experience, he's desperate for any type of companionship. However, the so-called advantages were never what this was all about for you. If it was, you'd know barely anything about each other, and you're glad you could become more than just classmates after the whole Egypt thing. To you, his friendship depended and revolved more around trust and means of comfort than just mainly using him for safety and assumed attention. The fact that he's truly a hard to crack shell of a man—that you somehow managed to turn into ash the moment you told him to 'get the fuck out of the jail room, you look ridiculous' —never mattered to you more than how closer you wish to get to him. Focusing in front of you again you watch the colors of the clouds merge with the dark purple of the sky. The stars are already out, and a beautiful half-moon is shining brighter than ever. You pout, disappointed of the incoming inability to see it in full display due to the sky's current cloudy state.

"Old man called me yesterday." You turned your head to Jotaro, eyes immediately locking with his. Just the simple fact that both of you go out of your ways to fully focus on each other makes your relationship all the more mutual. Jotaro, especially, he's never felt as easy with anyone as he has with you, and kakyoin, too, but he'd never say it directly to any of you . At night, when he's lost in his thought, he finds himself thinking of you. How kind you are and how you never seem to see the bad in anything despite having a bad past. He'd never admit it let alone say it with his tongue but he tries to take advantage of that kindness, in a way to make sure nothing will happen to you. He can't afford to lose anyone else. He also doesn't know if the fact that he thinks of you is more embarrassing, or the fact that he secretly wants to let his walls down in front of you one day. The thought comforts him, but, as usual, he's too meek about it, since there were many times his 'kindness' would be misunderstood as romantic intent. Well, he's doubting that, anyways, specifically with you.

"hm?" you reply, taking a sip of the refreshing drink in your hand. Your fingers wrap around each other, holding the can in a tight and secure grip. You're prone to dropping your drinks now and then, so you found this to be the most practical way of 'protecting them'. Yes, you look stupid when you end up dropping them either way. You two always get a good laugh from it, so at least there isn't any embarrassment happening.

"He was wondering if you wanted to stay with us for a couple more weeks. Mom misses you already." Jotaro exhales, smoke filling the air around you and mixing with his musky cologne to create an unbearable scent you never wanted to forget. The mention of Mr. Joestar for the third time this month makes your eyes widen. It was all for the same reason too. You lived alone for a long time now, and you've gotten very used to the lonely and eerie feeling of your dark home at night. However, of course, after meeting the Joestars, Joseph couldn't possibly leave you without pampering you so much, especially after helping with saving his precious daughter. You were grateful. You always are for what he does for you, but just enough for him to make you basically live with him is something you can't quite afford. Not money-wise, it's just that you don't have anything to give them in return, and offering your life also meant living with them. The cycle goes on.

With a grunt, you twist your form to face Jotaro, your hands pushing hard on the floor to support your frail physique.

"Jojo...I really appreciate it, but I have things to do at my house. I need to clean it, take care of the food that's been in the fridge for almost a month now. Maybe another time, but I really don't want to trouble you guys like this. You've done way too much for me already," you excuse, trying your best to scoot closer to your friend. As a final task for the day, you set yourself up on your knees and wrap your arms around the much larger man, patting him on the back a couple of times before planting a heavy peck on his forehead. "And you can stop worrying about me so much now, Joot. I'm really fine, thanks to you." A warm smile graces your lips as you speak your soft words to Jotaro, seeing his panicked eyes slowly close as he scoffs, pushing you away and hiding his rose-tinted face with the shadow of his hat.

"I'm still walking you home."

As much as you want to, you can't complain with a broken ankle. Who knows what might happen if you're too slow with walking? Over his dead body will Jotaro Kujo let anyone lay a finger on you...

~~~~~~~~~

The slow crunching of pebble and dust under heavy boots and the repetitive melody of crickets in the grass is enough to get you woozy in the freezing weather of tonight. The wind started picking up a long while ago, and you fear it might get worse before you reach your home. Clouds are grey and dull as they sway in a quick pace in the blue-black sky. The vigorous rustling of trees makes your ears tingle. Your pores are open with sweat, the droplets slowly trickling down your face and quickly drying out. Your arms over your crutches, your stomach hurting from excessive contraction, your breath becomes heavy, and your chest begins to hurt. It's been well over 20 minutes since you guys have been walking, and you're starting to hate yourself for letting Jotaro deal with your snail-paced struggle on a day like this.

Without a word, you sigh, then slowly crouch down to reach the floor. However, from how your ankle is positioned, the momentum you pushed yourself down with was faster than you anticipated, and you gasp. Bracing yourself for impact, you let go of your crutches hastily, spreading your arms in front of you to prepare support. Your eyes close tightly and you clench your stomach, a second away from hitting the concrete before feeling a soft barrier holding you up. Slowly, you open your eyes again, to find none other than Jotaro, encasing you in his large, jacket-cushioned arms. Without a chance to react, you feel yourself getting pulled up, hoisted up a millimeter high and huddled in your friend's arms again only this time in a better position for him to be able to swing your legs over to the side.

"Good grief, woman. What the hell were you doing?!" At this position, you can clearly hear the growl in Jotaro's voice. Heck, his breath is right in your ear. Inevitably, you shiver, letting out a huff of air. You feel yourself blush out of embarrassment when he gives you a side eye and you prepare to find a good answer to his question.

"Sorry, I wanted to sit down a bit...I uh..wasnt expecting to...fall-"

"Whatever, just stop talking or you'll die. And you're freezing ," Jotaro interrupts, leaning down to grab your crutches, still holding onto you. His head rests on your shoulder as he bends down, his fingers curling with ease around the handles.

Still shocked from the sudden ordeal, you start shuffling in Jotaro's arms, earning a grunt from him.

"Stay still, yn, for fuck's sake!"

"I-I can still walk on my own, JoJo!"

Annoyingly, or rather, smugly, Jotaro ignores your comment, only dragging his disagreement further by hoisting you up further so your figure is tucked snuggly between his arms. This proves his previous comment of how cold you actually are, seeing as you immediately melt into his arms, eyes almost instantly closing as you sigh, taking in the comfortable warmth of the thick fabric of his clothes.

when you look back at him, you decide not to complain any more when he raises an eyebrow at you and lets out chuckle. You just stare at the fading stars, keeping the image of his rare smile in your head along your little journey.

As you space out, your eyes having no place to stay still as the clouds move endlessly, you shake your head, feeling the pain in the back of your head from how dizzy you've become. This world is too big for even eyes to bear. you let out a mall sigh, the incoming comfort quickly cut off as you gasp. A wet droplet found its way on your nose uninvited. You look at Jotaro, expecting to see his face dotted with a bit if sweat, but that wasn't the case. Another droplet, and a third, and soon you see one slip off from Jotaro's hat. Oh... Ooooh...

Oh shit.

You gasp once more, suddenly sitting up and causing Jotaro to retract his head with a grunt.

"What the hell?!"

"Jojo it's raining!"

"And..?! Jeez you overreact."

With a pout, you hit the top of your friend's head, earning a stutter from him.

"C-can you walk a bit faster..? I can't have you getting sick, " you complain, clutching onto the chain dangling from JoJo's collar as a way to nudge him into agreeing to your order.

"That's not happening, y/n just sit back down-" As if to mock him, the clouds let out a loud clap of thunder, The rain quickly picking up with the wind. As fast as this happened, you and Jotaro are now almost drenched in water. You cross your arms, looking up at Mcedgy with a smug expression on your face.

He sighs heavily, tugging the brim of his hat and letting out his famous

"Good grief..." before wrapping his jacket around you like a stolen package and trudging quickly. A few moments pass before he starts to run.

Surprisingly, your house isn't that far away anymore. You'd expect that from someone twice your height running. Currently, your friend is huffing, occasionally spitting excess water away from his mouth.

"We're here."

He stops running, just jogging his way around a building before setting you down on the floor, waiting until you regained balance to give you your crutches back. You hiss at how cold the air is, your body quickly shivering.

You quickly find your keys from your pocket before limping to your front door and opening it with a satisfying click, taking your single wet shoe off and stepping into your house, again, cringing because of how cold the floor has gotten. As you manage to trudge to pull a shawl you found hanging on a chair, you turn back to the door, facing Jotaro again.

"Thanks for walking me here JoJo. It was definitely a pain, I'm sorry," you apologize, a wide smile on your face, rubbing the back of your neck.

"It's fine," says Jojo, already lighting his third cigarette of the day and placing it between his lips.

There's a long silence between the two of you, the heavy sound of rain and occasional thunder being the only thing breaking it. Your breaths are heavy because of the weather, and you do nothing but stare at each other. It seems none of you want to turn away for some reason. both of you are worried for each other. It takes another while before any of you finally move, Jotaro shuffling off of the steps in front of your door and turning around with a small farewell.

You, knocked out of your trance, call out to him again, making him stop. Now in your garden, completely soaked, Jotaro turns his head to you. His cigarette is barely lit anymore.

"Umm...I just realized your house is too far away," you start, catching your friend's attention. He slowly walks back to you, shoving his hands in his pockets. He only hums in response.

"Uh...I just...don't want you walking all that way again, and further so why-"

"I'm not coming inside your house," Jotaro cuts you off, causing you to stutter and blink a couple of times. However, you've already made up your mind and there's no way you're turning back now.

"No, JoJo, you are, and I'm serious right now!," you protest, trying your best to sound strict as you walk to take a hold of Jotaro's arm with your free one and pulling him under the dry safety of your door. When he realized he stepped in with his shoes, he quickly retreats, pulling on his hat and looking away.

"JoJo...!"

Jeez, you're so naïve. Little do you know, Jotaro is only concerned about causing you any harm. He'd rather shrivel up and die from hypothermia than have you affected by him. But...refusing is never an option with you at this point. If anything, he doubts you won't end up following him until he's already at his own house, still trying to nag him further. He grunts, shaking his head then looking back to you.

"Jesus, fine."

Your face quickly lights up with a smile, and you drag Jotaro inside your house —with a limp—and make him take his jacket off. As much as he somewhat doesn't want to be here, Jotaro sighs in relief, shuddering at the warmth of your home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

{2901 words}

This is just something to start writing here. I'm not sure how to feel about it but I hope you like it lol, you can imagine what happens next. this seems very random and messy, which it is but I promise I'll come back with better content lmfao.

--Poppie

[howdoyousleep3]

one look and i couldn’t breathe

Summary: “You know what you’re doin’? You ever been fucked before? ‘Cause that’s what I’m gonna do to you.”

Rating: Explicit 

Pairing: Andy Barber x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags: Age Difference, Light Dom/Sub, Dom/Sub Undertones, Feminization, Blowjobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty/Forbidden Thoughts, Crying, Verbal Humiliation, Breathplay/Choking 

Author’s Note: I couldn’t resist. I wanted Mr. Barber to get all dark and demanding and dirty with a younger guy. Written as I tend to write the other “reader” stories-- no first person or Y/N. Reader is of age. None of that here. Enjoy! 😘🙈

It’s impossible for him to pinpoint an exact moment when he knew he was done for.

It could have been the way Mr. Barber’s grip tightened on his hand when Jacob introduced them, the way his friend’s father eyed him a little heavily as he said, “Mr. Barber, nice to meet you, Sir.”

It could have been when he was coming home from his morning run, Jacob skipping out on him again. He had been trying to catch his breath in the kitchen, using his removed shirt as a towel to wipe the sweat off his face, guzzling down water from a cup. He had been clumsy, spilt water down his chest some, but hadn’t cared because it felt incredibly good on his flushed skin. Maybe it was then, when he turned around to find Mr. Barber leaning against the door frame donning a suit and tie for work, watching him.

“S-Sorry, Mr. Barber I—”

“No worries, kid. No worries at all,” he had said in a tone that left the younger man questioning what was hidden behind it and his own reaction to the way Mr. Barber stood too close as he worked his shirt across the mess on his chest.

It could have been all the lingering looks, the heavy gazes, the ones he was afraid to break, the ones where as soon as he did, he knew Mr. Barber’s eyes were still on him.

It could have been the night they were watching a movie all together and he found himself sitting on the couch with Mr. Barber while Jacob took the floor, felt that heavy hand creep up his knee, high on the inside of his thigh. It could have been then when his breath hitched and his dick got hard, the way he had to choke down his pitiful noise when Mr. Barber squeezed the back of his neck tight when he bid them goodnight and went upstairs.

Looking back at the plethora of moments and it could have been any of them, and as different as they all were, they all shoved him head-first into the same realization—

He wasn’t going to leave and go back to college without getting fucked by Mr. Barber.

That was the realization he came to a week ago, one that has been simmering under his skin for days, one that has felt like both shame and arousal. It was a realization, a conscious decision at this point, that he knows has serious consequences, ones that could be life-altering or permanent. He thought about those consequences and repercussions for days, they kept him up at night, thought about them when Mr. Barber’s gaze was heavy and thick.

Those consequences mean fuck-all when he’s finally put in the position to act on the tension, act on his dirty thoughts and wet dreams that have been building and building.  

Mr. Barber’s, “How’d your first year of college go?” small talk after Jacob left them on the couch to turn in morphed into a casually spoken, “Surely you sucked a lot of cock with a mouth like that.”

Which naturally led to a “C’mere,” to a handful of whimpers, to a shove to the floor. The older man had tapped a finger under his chin, kissed him once and chastely before he settled back into the couch, movements confident and natural. Mr. Barber talked after he ordered him to pull his cock out of his pants, a thrill ran down his spine at the sharp order from the older man, hands trembling in forbidden anticipation.

“You know what you’re doin’? You ever been fucked before? ‘Cause that’s what I’m gonna do to you.” The wave of arousal that moved through his limbs as he worked was heavy and hot, molten, made him whine on the next exhale, nod his head. Mr. Barber told him what he was going to take, didn’t even ask, and he’s ashamed at how much that made his dick hard. 

“Uh-huh, yeah yeah,” he breathed out, but Mr. Barber’s hand was on his chin, a hard grip, right as he pulled his friend’s dad’s cock past the waistband of his pants. Fuck, it’s the best cock he’s ever seen in person, arguably ever, but that could have just been the pent-up arousal he’s had brewing for weeks, for days. A little extra girth, heavy in his hands, a little extra length; he’s certain he won’t come across a cock like this again.

“Hey, hey don’t get stupid on me, listen,” Mr. Barber demanded, shook his chin in his hand to help him focus, “Don’t lose your manners now, kid. ‘Yes, Sir,’ and answer all my questions, don’t just start beggin’ to get fucked.”

Mr. Barber had felt divine in his hands, but he felt even better in his mouth, so good he couldn’t help but whimper around the fat head of him as soon as he wrapped his lips around it. He had told Mr. Barber that he had fucked around, said, “Y-yes, Sir,” when the other man had asked him if he was “a little slut”, but the truth was different. The blowjobs he had given were rushed and full of that youthful energy, sloppy and inexperienced. He had a favorite dildo and had fucked around at a few frat parties, but nothing that should have been considered experience.

None of it compared to having Mr. Barber’s cock in his mouth, to sucking someone off who was much more experienced and mature than he was. Mr. Barber knew what he wanted, told him what to do with his tongue, where to put his hands, to “look up at me as you suck my cock, boy.” His naive little thoughts of impressing his friend’s dad were tossed to the side as soon as Mr. Barber’s hand was tight in his hair, a chuckle of, “Oh, sweetheart. You must have been messin’ with boys in college.”

He had standards, unspoken rules, kept him in line with bitten-out guidance, sharp noises, and tugs of his hair. The older man pushed him past his comfort zone, but it felt good, felt right when the encouragement he took as praise washed over his shoulders and down his spine.

“Come on, you’re hungry—show me. Show me you can take it.”

Mr. Barber used him. He took what he wanted while somehow only moving his hand. The younger wasn’t used to having his mouth so full, so thoroughly used, the lewd sloppy noises coming from him making him feel shy and embarrassed, but fuck were they hot. They sounded like the ones that pushed him over the edge when he was watching porn, slick wet sounds. He found himself sputtering and choking a handful of times, Mr. Barber thick in his throat, hitting the back of it brutally, but he was forced through it, guided into it.

“You’ve been gaggin’ for it for weeks now, kid. Open your throat, come on now, there ya go, that’s nice, sweetheart. Keep that up.”

And he did, let himself be coached through it, listened to Mr. Barber’s words, relished in his heavy exhales, the sharp licks he gave his bottom lip. There was no time to pause to breathe let alone to consider how genuinely overwhelming this moment was. His jaw was sore, his eyes watery, he couldn’t stop the little hiccups and sobs and whimpers from falling into the hot steel of Mr. Barber’s erection. But Mr. Barber kept pushing, kept pulling and guiding, the perfect balance between rough and mean and encouraging and genuine.

When he finally had a chance to breathe, torn between truly wanting to and missing having his mouth so full, Mr. Barber had bent down, licked into his mouth with vigor, hot and wet.

“Get your ass upstairs.”

There was absolutely nothing that could have prepared him for Mr. Barber fucking him. He had the time downstairs on the living room floor to gain an understanding as to what Mr. Barber was about and how to be good for the older man, but even that was not enough time to prepare. He felt like he was on uneven ground, like every move and decision Mr. Barber made was one that reminded him of their differences.

They were active decisions that made him remember, made it move to the forefront of his mind, that this was one of his closest friend’s father, that he had such little experience compared to the older man. His movements were shaky as he worked to shed Mr. Barber of his clothes as directed, the other man’s eyes hot on his own naked form, his movements. Mr. Barber towered over him in every fashion, even when he had been sitting on the couch, but as he stood over him finally free of all clothing and backed him into the edge of the bed, he had never felt smaller.

“Maybe one’a these days soon I’ll get my mouth on that boy cunt’a yours and treat you right if you deserve it,” Mr. Barber had murmured into his neck as he pushed his backside down onto the bed, “But tonight isn’t that night. Tonight is when I show you what it’s like to be properly fucked. You might cry, it might hurt at first, but you’re gonna be so good for me and I’m gonna make you come so fuckin’ hard that I might have to carry you back to bed.”

Mr. Barber’s fingers felt vastly different than his own felt inside of him. They’re larger, thicker, took the breath right out of his lungs as he held the backs of his knees, Mr. Barber shoving them to his chest and telling him to hold them. The other man purred as he fingered him open, digits slick with lube as they glided in and out of his trembling hole. Mr. Barber commented on how tight he was, how pretty he was, and it made him light-headed, made him let out feminine whine after feminine whine. Mr. Barber told him to hush, smacked the back of his thigh, and fuck that shouldn’t have made his dick jump in the way that it had.

The older man spent the bare minimum amount of time needed for him to be prepped and ready. He was just beginning to feel like he had been hit by a train, eyes half-rolled back into his head and mouth slack, when Mr. Barber’s fingers slipped from his hole. He felt like he was underwater, vision a little hazy, more than a little breathless. Mr. Barber yanked his hips to the edge of the bed, stood there slicking up his fat erection, smacked it and smeared it across his ready asshole.

“You be quiet now. You understand?” Mr. Barber had commanded and before he could barely get out a “Yes, Sir,” Mr. Barber was pushing past his rim, sliding that terrifyingly beautiful cock inside of him a good few inches and it’s—

“Oh, fuck.”

He tried to not make noises, genuinely tried to stay quiet, but the whimpers flowed into whines and slipped out his mouth on their own accord, biting his lip doing nothing to contain them. Just as Mr. Barber guided him through a blowjob and being fingered, he guided him through taking the older man in his ass, his cunt, as Mr. Barber liked to call it.

“Come on, honey you can take it, you can take it. Breathe, hey—look at me. Breathe. There ya go, look at that,” and Mr. Barber’s voice had been so low it felt like a hot whisper, hot on his ear, hot on his neck, on his lips. The encouragement and praise felt like a physical thing, delicious and soothing, and he had found himself nodding his head in response. Mr. Barber stroked big hands down his sides, let a hand squeeze tight at his balls, brought and hand up to wrap around his neck.

“Yeah, there ya go, lemme in. You’re takin’ it. You takin’ it?” The hand around his neck had squeezed, came together right at his pulse points under his jaw, made him practically squeal out, “Yes, Sir m’takin it, fuck,” to which Mr. Barber growled out a, “Yeah y’are.” By the time hips met ass his thighs were quaking against his chest, back of his knees sweaty, neck lolled and arched as he completely gave into Mr. Barber’s touch.

There was no pause, no point in waiting for a period of adjustment, just a heavy groan and an even heavier roll and grind of the hips. One hand on his neck became two, Mr. Barber cupping either side of it, holding him in place as he towered over him, fucking into him. Just as his mouth had never been so full, his ass had never been so full either. Even when Mr. Baber pulled out to push back in, he felt like he was bursting at the seams with cock.

Every thrust made every breath he could manage to produce be punched from his chest, all focus and sensation directed down south, at his core. The times he had been fucked in the past had been uncoordinated and fast, and while this was fast paced, he knew Mr. Barber could fuck him for hours.

“Sweetheart, hey—look at me. There ya go. Wanna see those pretty tears as you take my cock. Knew you’d cry, fuck, just knew it.”

He hadn’t even realized he had been shedding tears until Mr. Barber pointed them out, moved a finger up to swipe at his cheek, smeared it over his lips messily. Sure enough he could taste the salt, feel the wetness, hadn’t realized that his sob-like noises were actually sobs. Before the other man’s hand goes back to his neck he gets a few generous taps on his cheek, gets the reminder of, “Even though you’re cryin’ you better stay quiet. You can be loud another night, let you scream some other time, shit.”

He found it ironic that he was being told to quiet down when the sound of skin slapping against skin bounced lewdly off the walls, was deafening in his ears, but he wasn’t about to mention it.

From the first full thrust Mr. Barber gave him he knew he’d never experience anything like this again, would never find anything like this when he went back to college. He’d think of this moment, of Mr. Barber’s cock heavy in his cunt and his hands around his throat and the way he so intently watched his face as he fucked into him, every other time he went to bed with someone else in the future. He’d beg to be fucked like this again, would come home with Jacob on every break if it meant a chance at getting Mr. Barber’s cock again.

From the first full thrust Mr. Barber gave him he knew he was going to come embarrassingly fast and from the older man’s cock alone. Time was entirely incomprehensible but what wasn’t slipping through his grip was the way the heat built in his core, pleasure searing, making every other part of his thighs join in on trembling and shaking. He couldn’t do anything to warn Mr. Barber, tried to slur a few words out, but they only came out as wails.

Luckily, he was either transparent enough or the hysterical signs of an impending orgasm were easy enough to discern because Mr. Barber had leaned down over him, his thighs coming to rest on broad shoulders.

“A cock ever make you come by itself? Huh? Anybody ever fuck the come outta you before without even touchin’ your dick?” With his hands free he had reached for Mr. Barber’s bearded jaw, his face, without even realizing it, but the older man let him dig his fingers in, scratch at it.

“No…n-no, Sir, oh fuck, oh,” he had squealed, voice going hysterical as a set of hiccups wracked his chest, his lungs. Everything built, everything added to the feeling of being so thoroughly taken apart he knew he was crying then, had been actively aware of how overwhelmed he had felt. He could feel Mr. Barber’s balls smacking against the bottom of his ass, could feel his own tighten up.

“There’s a first time for everything, sweetheart,” Mr. Barber had told him, voice gruff and gravely, and he couldn’t help his feral reaction of turning his head and digging his teeth into the older man’s chin, biting at it hard as he moaned. Mr. Barber had chuckled darkly, had dug his bent knees into the bed harder, had let go of any sort of restraint he had been holding onto.

When he came, it felt like his entire being had split apart into a million different pieces, hadn’t even realized that Mr. Barber had smacked a hand over his mouth until he went to close his lips to gasp and it was there. The noises hitting his ears at a rapid pace were entirely too much, grunts and gasps and slick sounds of skin, and Mr. Barber didn’t stop fucking him, kept going and pushing and guiding.

“Yeah, fuck yeah look at that, shit you’re shakin’ oh, honey.”

His body had been so wound tight and with each wave of unprecedented pleasure he felt himself unravel bit by bit. He felt foggy in the head, the jarring jumps of his body not helping that much. A smack to his cheek cleared the fog enough to understand that Mr. Barber was telling him to hold his own legs open again, “to your chest, kid”, half kneeling, half standing at the edge of the bed.

“Put your fingers through that mess on your chest, yeah, eat it, put it in your mouth, oh fuck, baby.”

Mr. Baber choosing to come on his own spent dick made him feel completely and entirely owned, like Mr. Barber knew exactly what it was he was doing to the other man—ruining him. He watched through half-lidded eyes as the other man jacked himself off, broad chest shaking, muscles in his arms shifting like something out of a wet dream.

He wrung out every single drop he could, making sure to direct it all towards his own messy dick, hot on his skin and searing into his brain. The older man’s groans made his toes curl, made him want to hear them again and again, made him attempt to count the days left in the summer right there on his back covered in come. By the time Mr. Barber had finished coming, the only sounds left were their collective labored breathing. The syrupy headspace was still present but now was also the time for regret and realization to kick in.

Neither really left him stunned in the moment.

Mr. Barber smacking his cheek again, his ass, exhaling roughly as he settled down next to him in the bed did leave him a little stunned though. The feeling of surprise was stretched into the next moment of Mr. Barber tipping his chin up, kissing him for what felt like the first time, hot and lingering.

“Next time I’ll show you what it’s like to have your ass eaten; you’re gonna love it. Now, am I gonna have to carry you back to bed or are you a big enough boy to get there yourself?”

[sadoeuphemist]

Stories I thought about writing, but didn’t:

my voice is poisonous, a gift from a strange god my parents once befriended. I’m careful not to speak, but I know they’re afraid.

A poison-voiced girl is born to deaf parents, but falls in love with a hearing boy. Their courtship is marked on her end by a thrilling restraint, biting her lip, knowing she could kill him with an indiscretion; he, on the other hand, longs to see her act without inhibition. He manages to make her laugh, sigh, gasp out in wonder - each time he falls ill from the poison of her voice, but is undeterred even in his convalescence, returning renewed in his goal to tease another sound out of her.

Her parents tell her to break it off; she’ll kill him. She reluctantly agrees. He refuses, pleads with her, grasps her hands so she can’t sign. In anguish she cries out his name — but lo! he does not sicken, does not die. It turns out his repeated exposures to her voice have mithridatized him against it. She can speak around him freely! They both agree that this development has taken a lot of the excitement out of the relationship, but it has been replaced with a greater casualness and intimacy that balances it out.

I can see the angels in their true form, a thousand splendid eyes and all. They think it’s funny, and have taken to hanging around my apartment 

The angels start making excuses to keep showing up at my apartment, in the manner of the annunciation, but for increasingly trivial reasons. They come bearing tidings about how I should definitely get the turkey wrap for lunch, which brand of fabric softener I should buy, how that quarter I’ll find on the sidewalk is a sign that I am favored by God. They come bearing bad tidings too: The Lord has heard of all the evil in your printer, and has sent us here to jam it. Their presence becomes completely overbearing, but they are insistent. There’s a reason you see us in our true forms, they say, all their splendid eyes shining. Is it so hard to believe that the God that formed every atom of you in the womb should watch over you always, that every mundane moment of your existence in this world is shot through with the divine?

There was a body in the river, ice cold and snow white. Sometimes it was all the way dead. Sometimes it sat up and talked to me.

A king has declared that whoever can complete the following tasks shall marry his daughter: 1) to recover a lost treasure stolen from his family hundreds of years ago; 2)  to name the start of the pact between men and horses; and 3) to find a cure to the plague ravaging the land.

Our plucky folk hero helps an old lady who sits by the river; she tells him of the snow white body within, who has sat up and spoken to her at odd times throughout her life. It is the spirit of the glacier: the glacier melts, and forms the river; layer by layer the past frozen in it is uncovered, parts of it living and parts of it dead. Our hero builds many bonfires and melts the glacier faster; the body lives and dies and lives many times over and tells him the three answers. 1) The thief fell into a crevasse and was frozen over; the ice is melted now, and the treasure can be recovered. 2) Iron horseshoes frozen in the glacier reveal the pact is many thousands of years old. 3) The plague is an old one, frozen and released anew with the glacier’s melting; it is carried in the livestock, and they must be slaughtered.

The hero solves the king’s tasks and marries his daughter. Presumably the new king is then faced with the challenge of the rising sea levels; no idea how that plays out.

“We’re all nice to each other here,” they told us, “we’ve got angels in the hills. They like it when we’re nice. And they see everything.”

This one’s tough to summarize adequately. Two men are going door to door, seemingly taking a survey of the religious beliefs in a small town. They finish, sit together in their car. People have been very cooperative. One of the men remarks that the local religious beliefs are disappointingly unremarkable: yes, they believe in angels watching from the hills, but most people believe in an omniscient God watching over them, and whether it is God or his intercessors, does it make a significant difference?

They sit in the car. Perhaps they smoke in the lazy sunlight. They have finished their survey ahead of time. One of them proposes: Suppose we have a picnic lunch up in the hills?

They park at the base of the hill and walk up. Lovely day. They spread out a blanket from the car, stretch their legs out on the grass, take off their coats, loosen their ties. They’ve brought their packed lunch, sandwiches, a thermos of lemonade. They talk about how pleasant all the people were. Their kind of religion seems so ... brittle, one of the men remarks. If I thought there was someone waiting to punish me the moment I stepped out of line, I’d want to do something horrible just to get it over with.

You think so? says his partner. I think just the opposite. The grand problem with religion is that there aren’t enough consequences for wickedness. I know if I saw the wicked being smote down on a regular basis, I would very satisfied in my religion indeed.

Well, of course you would; you’re a sadist.

Me? A sadist? Hardly.

You’re a sadist, his partner says teasingly. A sadist and brute.

They smile at each other. Idle conversation. There is a suggestion that they have visited many such towns and cities, asking the same question, but have yet to receive a satisfactory answer. At one point one of them notes that there’s something in the trees, but this remark is ignored and nothing is ever made of it. The conversation turns back to whether the angels in the hills are real or not. The ‘sadist’ stands up, declares his intent to do something wicked to test them. He marches around, swinging his arms, then looks around at the trees and puts his hands on his hips and laughs.

You know, up here away from society, he declares, I can’t think of a single wicked thing to do!

(Maybe a conversation here about how he could tear branches from trees, despoil the scenery, find an animal to kill; but then again animals in nature strip bark from trees, kill each other bloodily all the time, tear each other to bits, so how wicked could that be, really?)

He looks down at his partner still lying back on the blanket. Unless, of course, I were to do something wicked to you.

Whatever happens next, it is very leisurely. The scene is easy, very relaxed. Lovely day. Calm. Bright blue sky. Clouds float across it, white like feathered wings, and then pass, leaving not a trace behind.

None of us can imagine what life was like before the Clocks came, before clockwork cities, and all their technology. They rebuilt our crumbling society, in perfect, mechanical order. 

Brief musings on a hypothetical pre-Clock society. A society built around the sun, all buildings roofless, everyone’s necks craned upward. Cities built running north to south so as not to block anyone’s view of the rise and set. A society built around hourglasses, everyone judging the passage of time by the sand puddling around their feet, knees, waists, clambering up onto growing dunes, waiting for the flip, for the sand to slowly drain away and the furnishings of their homes to be uncovered. Perhaps this was our unimaginable life before the Clocks came: sands stretching far away and bare, the hypothetical counterpart bulb of an hourglass reflected invisible above us, empty and vast with unrealized possibility, waiting to be reset.

When I was very young, I met a bear at the edge of the woods. Before I could play dead, it bowed to me.

Jokey little fic where a child is instructed on the etiquette of bears: when to bow, when to curtsy, when to raise your hands and make yourself as large as possible, when to climb a tree, when to play dead. (Note that grizzlies are territorial, so if they attack you and play dead they’ll leave you alone because the threat is neutralized; whereas black bears are not territorial, so playing dead will do no good because a black bear will only attack if it deliberately wants to fuck you up.)

I was given very specific instructions. Go to the rosebush on a clear night. As the moonlight turns the roses silver, feed them three drops of blood.

After years of trying for a child, a couple turns to an old witch to help. The woman is instructed to eat a rose from a magical rosebush. If she first pricks her finger and stains the rose red with her blood, then she will have a son, ruddy and robust and bold in battle; if she visits the bush on a clear night and eats a rose painted silver by moonlight, then she will have a daughter, as pale and graceful and elegant as the moon.

The woman is uneasy with the implications of this binary, and says so. The witch smiles and gives her a new set of instructions. So she pricks her finger at night, her blood painted black by the moonlight, and nine months later gives birth to a child as black as a rose, who is neither boy nor girl.

Never manged to come up with a plot for this one. The kid grows up to have a career fulfilling all those “Neither man nor woman” prophecies? Eh. Kinda corny. There’s something about gender roles in fairy tales here, but I couldn’t put it together.

Not for the first time, the company time loop drill had gone very, very wrong.

I did actually write a response for this one, but it got too long and I gave up on it. Summary of the rest of the idea I had:

Time resets. Nagle confirms that it is both an actual time loop and a drill; the company is doing a controlled time loop to prepare them for the real thing. People complain. What’s the point of a drill when an actual time loop would let you keep doing things over and over until you get it right? Nagle points out that could take years, subjectively, and that this is a controlled experience where he has a code to abort the exercise if anything seriously goes wrong. He insists they try to make it work.

They go through a bunch of loops. Don’t succeed. It’s highly technical stuff that none of them are trained for. Morale drops. People start complaining, they’ve spent hours at this, they should be off duty by now. Nagle points out there’s a ruling, established with VR training, that companies don’t need to pay their employees according to their subjective experience of time, and officially they’ve only spent 34 minutes at this.

More loops. Morale drops further. People start demanding Nagle use the abort code, threatening to quit. Nagle points out that while they’re in this time loop, their actions are consequence-free, but once he ends the loop they’ll have to live with their decisions for the rest of their lives. Are they sure they really want to quit?

At that point someone loses it and kills Nagle. Shock. Panic. Some satisfaction. He’s reborn the next loop, starts screaming about it - someone kills him again. Complete social breakdown. Eventually some people decide, fuck it, let’s just live in this loop forever. Killing Nagle becomes a standard thing they do at the start of every loop, so that he can’t input the abort code. They go through various reconfigurations of their social group - orgies, riots, open paranoia where everyone colonizes a different part of the building, regressing to primitivism, open warfare between various sects, rebuilding of society along different axes of thought. Everyone starts thinking of themselves as immortal, they start calling themselves things like ‘Chronobog of the Infinite Plane of Despair’ or whatever; the narration gets increasingly surreal.

After god knows how many cycles of this, everyone finally achieves an equilibrium of perfect enlightenment. They know what must be done. They leave Nagle alive, he watches as they move in perfect unison to unlock the server room and overcome all the obstacles and repair the tachyon servers, loop is finally terminated, normal flow of time resumes.

Nagle stands up, gives a speech, starts congratulating them on completing the drill. As he talks, everyone can feel the rapport they’ve built start to slip away - they no longer understand each other perfectly outside of the context of those 34 minutes. Time is moving forward again, and with it introducing unfamiliarity, uncertainty, an impossible onslaught of variables that they cannot predict or prepare for, and they are all moving inescapably further from each other even as they glance around and try to catch each other’s eyes and keep holding on to that feeling of perfect unity - but it’s too late now, they are strangers behind familiar faces, all of them heading in their own directions, going to be returning to their own separate lives; that moment of solidarity they had is past.

And then Nagle claps his hands at them and says, “OK, drill’s over, everyone back to work!”

[fantasiavii]

The Untamed + Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, S1EP1 “Emissary”

(Explanation and description under cut)

In the episode “Emissary,” Commander Sisko encounters incorporeal aliens called the Prophets that experience time nonlinearly. They take the form of people he knows (including his deceased wife, Jennifer, and son, Jake) in order to communicate with him. Sisko tries to explain to them how humans experience linear time and in the process, they reveal to him that he is stuck emotionally in the moment of his wife’s death. 

Description:

1. Screenshot of Lan Wangji watching Wei Wuxian approaching the cliffside at Nightless City. He looks scared. He has just said, “Wei Ying. Come back?”

2. Screenshot of the script of “Emissary.” It reads “Sisko: What is the point of bringing me back again to this?”

3. Screenshot of Wei Wuxian as he stands at the cliffside, looking out over the battle. He is crying and has blood running down from his mouth.

4. Script: “Jake Alien: We do not bring you here. Jennifer Alien: You bring us here. Tactical Officer Alien: You exist here.”

5. Screenshot of Lan Wangji’s arm reaching for Wei Wuxian, who can be seen falling over the cliff in the background. Lan Wangji’s arm is bloody from a wound he sustained in the battle.

6. Script: “Sisko: I’ve never left this ship... Jennifer Alien: You exist here.”

7. Screenshot of Wei Wuxian, looking up at Lan Wangji, who has just caught him to stop him from falling over the cliffside. Wei Wuxian’s face is captured in the moment he realizes he has been caught and who caught him.

8. Script: “Sisko (to the aliens): I don’t know if you can understand. I see her like this every time I close my eyes...in the darkness in the blink of an eye, she’s there...like this...

9. Screenshot of Wei Wuxian falling off the cliff. He is looking back at the viewer, at Lan Wangji.

10. Script: “Jennifer Alien: None of your past experiences helped prepare you for this consequence... Sisko shakes his head, slowly...”

11. Screenshot of Lan Wangji watching Wei Wuxian fall, a look of utter devastation on his face. He has just shouted, “Wei Ying!”

12. Script: “Sisko (softly): And I’ve never figured out how to live without her.”

13. Screenshot of Wei Wuxian falling. His eyes are closed this time. He looks almost peaceful.

14. Script: “Jennifer Alien: So you choose to exist here. He [Sisko] nods, unable to speak...she [Jennifer Alien] moves closer... Jennifer Alien: It is not linear.”

15. Screenshot of Lan Wangji standing on the cliffside, looking down at where Wei Wuxian fell, but you can tell from his expression that he’s not really seeing anymore. He looks gutted, shattered, devastated. The sky is a fierce reddish orange behind him.

16. Script: “Sisko: No. It’s not...linear.”