#not to mention the constant target he will have on himself for the rest of his life

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

The other day I returned to my Barbie obsession from last summer and it suddenly dawned on me that in another universe, with no war and Vova still one of Ukraine's biggest entertainers, he would have absolutely re-created the "I'm Ken" Oscar performance during a Kvartal show. Which made me realize there are soooooo many things we'll never see because of him running for President and the war (don't get me wrong - I'm very happy he is the President). Still, he was not even on the peek of his talet nor fame when he left and became President. And I doubt we'll see him returning as the energized bunny we know from Kvartal days.

On a side note: in this other peaceful universe, Vova Zelenskyy is also absolutely doing Tiktoks with Sasha, dancing his heart out.

[yellosnacc]

Welcome to a long one.

The Ciwan empire is the fastest-growing sloman power ever since the war of continents and the first to discover a form of gunpowder (thanks to their enemies being uniima lls who have been using it long before).

But even with that advantage (among slomen), the Ciwan armies are iconic for a different reason. That being the Kuiqua-trained units that Sun-cutters come from.

These units have traditionally existed for hundreds of years but are slowly just becoming a symbol for show because of the political and battling changes in the world. However, you will still see them from time to time ripping people to pieces.

Just like the majority of sloman military groups the unit relies on intense teamwork, they need constant communication and preplanned routes to deal with the opposing strategy.

The simplified average scene might look something like this:

In one unit of 30 members, three strikers (Sun-cutters) make a plan with their scholars and commanding Fire-catchers (Seconds leaders). After getting to the war zone they wait for their window in which some members spy or communicate with deeper army spies. When they know their target and best strategy they get in. The strikers use hand gestures, clicks, or whistles to save energy while the Seconds forward the orders to the rest with "ground's" (war language), wooden whistles see more use in very large units. Many times, however, often just seeing the movement of the sun-cutters is enough for the whole group to act.

Strikers will sometimes wait behind their heavies (Beasts) if their force isn't necessary (units can be as few as 5 members or as many as 50, the two extremes work very differently). Once the situation calls for it, they bullet their targets, often stabbing talons first and tearing muscles in a swift motion. This may happen multiple times as other unit members engage in direct battle with the target/s or disarm them with specialized tools. Kuiqua units both kill and capture, having healing supplies on their heavies if they need to make sure their target doesn't bleed out (or their own soldiers).

All members of the Kuiquan unit are priests of different levels but all are priests of the dead (ones that speak for their ancestors rather than gods). It's believed lands conquered with these soldiers present will flourish with life. Many former battlegrounds have turned into gardens and crop fields (hopefully they don't keep this up when landmines are invented).

To the image. What you see is a small variety of soldiers. Beasts and fire-catchers have other names and features in their armor that they are known for based on all their roles that can often switch between fights. Only Sun-cutters truly have one name.

Fire-catchers are also sometimes strikers in training and may move up if they prove themselves. Though, more often Sun-cutters rise from the ranks of regular taloned soldiers with enough talent.

-

As mentioned in the image, Sun-cutters tend to be very prideful. Their helmets are an impractical mess that pushes their ears forward. A Ciwan Sloman's ears are very important to them and if they are damaged it's a career-ending event. Still, almost no strikers bind their ears, not wanting to be shamed for cowardness.

an ex-striker

here is the whole picture if you prefer it big

Btw, Kuiqua is the city Neal lives in. He has met or been arranged to meet these units multiple times since Neal himself is stuck classified as a fancy soldier. They are also not uncommon around temples, small talk is required.

Thank you for reading this far! Next I must answer the questions of biology. This has taken me 50 000 years.

[cloudcountry]

a broken symbol ⤿ you bring toshinori out of his mind

comments: i have nothing to say...hello mha fandom...are we still here...

tags: sir nighteye is mentioned, fluff, established relationship, toshinori is whipped, retired toshinori, insecurities.

These days, it doesn’t take much for Toshinori to collapse. He’s been retired for quite a while now but still helps out behind the scenes, always the hero even though he deserves nothing but rest. He ends up excusing himself from his work every hour, only to run to the nearest bathroom and crumple over the first drain he can reach.

His side flares up with pain and he clutches the flesh, feeling the stretched and scarred skin that caused his health to decline so rapidly as he hacks up far too much blood. Despite everything—the scar and the blood he spits up and the way he really doesn’t have a quirk anymore and the way he can’t maintain his muscular form even if he wanted to—he still works.

And at the end of the day, his gnarled, gangly form drags its way over to you, the person he is finally able to love just a little bit, because the public knows he is All Might and he is still very much a target, and he knows he can still protect you but he’d rather not have it come to that.

Each day was harder than the last, more taxing on his broken and battered body. Even simple tasks like getting out of bed were becoming difficult, the scars and residual pain a constant reminder of just how beaten he truly was.

Why were you with a man like him?

What could he give you, really? He wasn’t young anymore, nor was he muscular or flashy. He couldn’t give you the life you deserved, with a partner the same age as you, in top condition, ready to spoil you relentlessly. Instead you got a run down, broken man, his muscles and glory gone. The only thing he could possibly offer you was his smile.

(Not the well trained one for the press, or the one he saved for victims during and after he saved them. The one that only his colleagues and his students have seen, the awkward one that droops a little on the right, the one that makes his eyes shut with peace he hasn’t known in forever, the one that accompanies a nervous laugh.)

He doesn’t notice your presence when he steps through the front door, muttering a soft “I’m home,” as he takes his shoes off in the doorway. You stand there, waiting for him with a ladle in hand, a cute apron wrapped around you. Your touch feels like an anchor when it reaches him, brushing his snarled hair away from his eyes. You look so concerned and it punches him right in the gut, guilt seeping into his expression. He feels so frail in front of you, like a giant skinny bug. Why do you treat him so gently?

Toshinori’s heart squeezes. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s pathetic, a broken symbol of peace, a reminder that he couldn’t do more for the people he wanted to protect, for his Master who bet everything on him, for young Midoriya who looked up at him with stars in his eyes.

You ask him if he’s getting in his own head again. Your words swim around his skull, only barely making sense as he ducks his head, lanky arms pulling you into his chest and holding you close. He doesn’t cry, it’s rare that he ever does, but he doesn’t stop the single tear that falls down his cheek. You hug him back immediately, pressing your hands into his back, and it feels so soft and warm.

What did he do to deserve something—someone—as soft as this?

“You’ve done everything.” you scold, holding him a little tighter.

How can you sound so gentle even when berating him for being pathetic?

No, that’s not what you were doing. You were just loving him.

“You’ve saved millions. You fought for them for decades. You stopped All for One time and time again. You’ve saved the world over and over. You’ve built society from the ground up.” you reprimand him for each mean thought he has about him, piecing him together from the ashes of his legacy.

He doesn’t say anything, slumped over on your shoulder, taking in your words like they’re the softest, sweetest thing he’s heard his whole life.

Everyone else wanted All Might. He was so, so lucky to find the person who loved Toshinori.

“I understand that the world isn’t safe yet, and I get that you will always be a hero at heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” you pick and choose your words carefully, he can hear it in your tone, “This is the life you chose and I won’t try to take it away from you. Just let me support you. And for the sake of the world, stop being so harsh on yourself.”

As he gazes at you, he can’t help but think that his world has narrowed down considerably since he retired. He entrusted the Earth to his students and colleagues, putting blood, sweat, and tears into the staircase he built for them, just so they could reach the highest peak and succeed in protecting everyone they cared for. He is, no matter how he feels about it, just a man now. And his world became you a while ago.

It feels selfish for him to admit that to himself. He will never stop caring about the public, the people who put their hopes and dreams on his shoulders and allowed him to carry their burdens for him, but you’re the only one who has ever really taken his burdens.

Maybe it’s because he never allowed anyone else to. He holds you just a little bit tighter, memories of friends long gone who pleaded with him not to go flashing through his mind.

“You will always be a hero, love.” you sigh, brushing his cheek with the back of your hand, “You will forever be my hero. But right now, I want you to just be you.”

That’s right. He shudders in your arms, a remnant of what once was, but this remnant loves you with every shattered bit of him.

“Right.” he says, voice low and soft.

He hardly has the energy to say anything else, but he knows he doesn’t have to.

Not when it’s you.

[kissingmilfs]

sleeping with the enemy | natasha romanoff

summary: part of the dream girl evil! au something had to be done. everyone was sick of the fighting. but maybe being trapped in a van with natasha wasn’t entirely the worst idea. prequel to 🫀

cw: hate fucking, degradation, name calling, sorta pet play, mentions of weed and alcohol, slight blood, consensual(ish) bullying

word count: 4.1k

a/n: my gf @pocolottie did the banner! it’ll be posted to ao3 too.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

you’re all squeezed in the back of Sam's dad’s company van. it’s a little silly pulling up to a college bonfire in a white van with a fishing company’s decal on the sides. our friend group is comprised of seven people originally. wanda invited some random boy from her chemistry lab. sam invited his sister because bucky gets really awkward around her and it’s funny seeing a drunk bucky trying to flirt with sarah.

it’s already hard enough sharing an opened, public space with natasha. even when you’re feet apart, there’s always something negative for natasha to spew at you. even if the girl is quiet, you can feel natasha throwing you disgusted looks. naturally it sucks having the girl sitting directly across from you with five other people squished around.

steve texted to warn about the tight squeeze in the van. the natural peace maker wanting to make sure everyone spends the ride without getting murdered. before they swung around to your dorm, you took two shots of some cheap tequila. you hung outside, smoking a joint, able to indulge since soccer season ended.

you needed all the help you could get. sometimes you tell yourself that you can handle natasha’s constant attacking and horrid attitude. but then natasha will glare at you and all your reservations are dropped. you saw the van bank the corner, ashed your joint and hopped into the back. natasha’s dorm is before yours, so naturally you were met with her face first.

the alcohol and the weed help maintain your calm composure. you say, “sup,” to everyone and climb into the van. once sam confirms you’re in safely and somewhat comfortably he drives off, heading to the clearing in the woods. your knees are pulled up to your chest, allowing your chin to rest on them. you’re listening to the lull of random conversations from everyone in the van. you even thought to yourself, “wow this is nice,” right before natasha opened her mouth.

natasha cannot resist truthfully. you make yourself an easy target for the girl. there’s always something for natasha to single out and make fun of. you dont even hide your disdain or contempt. she loves seeing a reaction come from you. something about seeing the muscles in your jaw tighten, or your eyebrows furrow with anger, continues the little game for natasha.

“it smells fucking rank in here.” natasha deadpans while staring directly at you.

you open your mouth then quickly close it. wanda leans over bucky and takes a whiff from you. both her and bucky exchange knowing glances and she giggles.

“its just weed, natasha. chill out.” bucky mumbles with a shrug, not wanting to spend another 20 minutes with both of them going at it.

natasha throws bucky a horrid stare and he retreats into himself like a scared puppy. wanda soothingly rubs his shoulder then glances over apologetically at you. you sigh, momentarily closing your eyes. the thought of entertaining natasha and her usual antics makes the tequila in your stomach churn.

“what? nothing to say, y/l/n? you must’ve really fried your brain with that shit.” natasha’s words are filled with disgust.

you open your eyes again, deadly staring at the girl across from you. “what do you want me to say, hm? i don’t owe you anything. you’re the only one with the fucking problem.”

natasha scrunches her face with one eyebrow raised. “oh? you don’t think the way you smell affects me? or anyone else in the van? maybe they’re all too coward to say anything.”

everyone in the van grumbles, muttering something about how they’re not cowards, or that they don’t care. it does not seem to phase natasha. she’s relentless and goes in for more.

“no wonder you’re such a pathetic athlete. matter of fact, i wonder how your coach would feel hearing what his star player gets up to during off season.”

“jesus…give me a fucking break. maybe you should try smoking some time. you’ll get that stick out of your ass. it’s probably making you constipated and that’s why you’re such a fucking bitch.” your hand curls into a fist against the fabric of your pants. you can feel the anger starting to boil in your veins. this is precisely what you wanted to avoid.

and on the other hand, natasha is failing miserably at hiding her pleased expression. it’s all part of natasha’s favorite game. pushing and pushing until you finally snap. natasha would be lying, if she said the malice in your tone did not excite her and incentive her to keep verbally attacking you.

“and what? become a burnt out loser like yourself? unlike you, i don’t plan on riding on the coattails of my college experience for the rest of my life. some of us have goals and ambitions.”

i scoff, rolling my eyes, trying my best to regain some control over my senses. “right, okay, whatever, natasha. you keep telling yourself that being a cheerleader and majoring in floral arrangements will get you far in life. your future looks like getting on your knees every time you need allowance money from your ugly, cheating husband.”

everyone in the van gasps loudly. you hear sarah, sam’s sister, saying “oh shit.” you do feel a bit embarrassed everyone had to hear and see you like this. no matter how many times you and natasha fight, part of you feels guilty for doing it in front of everyone. natasha simply never knows when to chill. the silence that follows is bone chilling. no one dares utter a word in fear of retaliation from natasha.

natasha, herself, is taken back by the words. she’s dangerously quiet which everyone, yourself included, knows isn’t a good sign. all natasha can do for now is stare at you while threats and insults brew in her mind. you think about apologizing, but then that would make you look weak. confirming everything natasha has ever said about you. you know it is in your best interest and everyone’s safety for you to shut up. stop while you’re ahead. but then again when has the other girl ever backed down? you decide probably to do the dumbest thing possible in the situation.

“hey, sam, mind rolling down those windows?”

sam obliges, letting the crisp air into the van. you pull out the container that holds a half smoked joint and another full one. you rummage around your pockets for the lighter, securing it after a few seconds. the filter rests snuggly between your lips. you nudge natasha’s foot with yours, making sure the girl is watching. then with a quick flick of your lighter, the joint is sparked.

you take a deep inhale then meticulously blow the smoke directly into natasha’s direction. you track the uptick of her plump lips. her jawline becoming more prominent as she grinds her teeth. you can even see natasha digging her perfectly manicured nails into her skin.

“you know…weed is proven to help sexual libido. so maybe it’ll help loosen—“

the van comes to an abrupt stop before you can finish. you’re all jostled around by the unexpected motion. from the view out the windshield, you’re most likely already at the party. sam slams his door shut and opens the back doors. everyone climbs out in somewhat uniformed fashion, you and natasha the first to exit. everyone stretches their limbs, giddy about leaving the confined space and ready for a party.

natasha starts walking away, but sam stops her by the shoulder. she glares at him yet he doesn’t falter. bucky taps on yours and you peel your eyes away from natasha and sam.

“you gotta get back in the van.” bucky whispers with his usual soft yet annoyed tone.

“huh? why? are we leaving or something?’

bucky sighs and shakes his head. “no, nothing like that, just…you gotta go back in. or me and rogers will make you. c’mon.” he steps aside, extending his arm towards the van.

you raise your eyebrows inquisitively, but decide not to protest, simply getting back into the van. the boys are having a lot harder time with natasha. funny considering she’s eight inches shorter and one hundred pounds lighter than all three of them. watching the scene unfold is a bit comical. sam, calmly, asking natasha to listen and not walk off. bucky standing behind her with crossed arms and steve on one side, looking very much worried and frightened. you can see natasha attempt to walk away, but sam grabs her arm. that causes natasha to snap.

she swiftly turns around and knees sam in the balls. sam keels over, cupping his wounded groin. steve’s face turns blank then looks to bucky for help. bucky already moved towards natasha, looping an arm around her waist, lifting the girl over his shoulder. like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, natasha thrashes and screams and pounds her fists into bucky’s back. her blows are landing hard, it seems like, considering bucky winces every time natasha’s fists forcefully meet his back. steve hurriedly grabs the van door for bucky. natasha is gently sat down and they both wait until she gets the hint. she rolls her eyes dramatically, scooting back, almost hitting my legs.

“good. so. we’ve all had enough with the constant fighting.” bucky starts off, rubbing his shoulder.

sam finally reappears with a pissed off expression on his face. “it’s becoming too much. you both ruin the fun every time we all hang out. it’s embarrassing bringing my sister around.”

“we don’t expect you both to become best friends or anything.” steve speaks up.

sam slams one door shut. “but the fighting needs to stop. you two need to figure out how to get along. or at least ignore each other.”

“there’s a child lock on the van door. you can’t escape. the windows are rolled down, so don’t worry about dying or anything. we’ll check back in like 45 minutes. if you need something text wanda. she’s the designated driver for tonight, so she’ll have enough sense.” bucky closes the other door, watching your shocked expressions before leaving you both here with one another.

you’re blinking back your shock, trying to gain some understanding. yeah, you and natasha fought a lot, but was locking you guys in the van really the solution? if anything, only one of you will come out alive.

“close your mouth. even with the window open, i don’t need you stinking up the air.” natasha’s back is leaning against the frame of the van with her legs extended and crossed by the ankle.

“fuck off.”

“brilliant idea! but i can’t, dummy. don’t know if you were listening, you dimwit. we’re trapped here for 45 minutes.”

you move towards the mesh barrier separating the driver’s side and the back of the van. you kneel with your side pressed against the divider, then spark your joint again. but this time, you blow the smoke through the mesh, not in the mood to further aggravate the girl.

natasha intently watches your movements. it surprises her that you have an ounce of consideration. she never ponders too hard on pushing your buttons. it comes like second nature at this point. part of the fun is the audience and humiliating you constantly in front of the friend group. natasha finds that entertaining, not embarrassing, considering that’s an emotion she rarely feels. natasha holds her tongue for now though.

you make note of the quietness. never knowing natasha to shut her mouth. unlike natasha you prefer the silence. you rather never talk to natasha again than fight incessantly. once the joint is finished you check the time—only six minutes have passed. sighing, you adjust back into a sitting position.

you take the time to check natasha out. her tight denim skirt hugs her thighs perfectly, but barely conceals the black underwear underneath. natasha’s baby tee accentuates her breasts and gives them an unneeded, but very welcomed lift. her curtain bangs tickle her eyelashes as her ginger hair rests below her collarbone. you always loved how natasha cut her hair, thinking the layered look frames her face perfectly.

this is all compared to your baggy green cargo pants with the band of your boxers, peeking through, and a basic white tank top that compresses your breasts comfortably. funnily enough, you both are without bras and the chillness of the air causes both your nipples to stay hardened. it seems illogical, but you feel natasha’s eyes on them. as if she’s mentally willing your tank top to remove itself. you shift your eyes to natasha’s face, almost gasping at the look in her eyes. there’s a hunger in them. those emerald orbs staring at you like prey soon to be hunted.

one of natasha’s wickedly delicious smirks appears on her lips. she presses her hands on either side of her body against the floor of the van.

“c’mere.” natasha gestures her head to the empty spot next to her.

you quirk an eyebrow, staring dumbfounded at the other girl. “are you gonna like bite me or something?”

natasha cackles, “you’ll have to beg nicely. now do what i say. i don’t like repeating myself, y/l/n.”

instead of protesting like usual, you sigh and nod, crawling over to natasha’s side. the girl turns her body slightly to look at you. the grin that spreads on natasha’s face sends chills down your spine.

“you know…sometimes i think you like fighting with me. it makes you feel alive. none of those silly, little girls you play with can compete. if you really wanted us to stop fighting, i don’t think you’d let me get under your skin so easily.”

“are you jealous or something? do you want to be one of those girls? is that that this is all about?”

natasha barks out a heinous laughter, throwing her head back. of course, your scope of the situation is small minded, limited to only your perspective. natasha calms down and shakes her head.

“absolutely not. i have a lot more self respect than those airheaded bimbos.”

you roll your eyes, huffing at natasha’s comment and shifting away from the other girl. you’re not sure why you’re letting natasha continue her berating and treatment. but where else could you go? all you do is listen and either fight back or stay quiet. natasha glares at you, once she notices your movements. she grabs the collar of your tank top, forcing you back while bringing you even closer than before.

“did i say you could move away? that’s your problem. empty headed and stubborn. never following directions.” natasha’s hold on your collar loosens, but she keeps you close.

“now…let’s try this again. i’ll give you instructions. you’ll listen. no back talk. i’m not afraid to hurt you. i’ll gladly make you feel some pain.”

natasha’s smile is sickly sweet. it’s tempting, yet stupid, to place an inch of trust in the girl. but maybe it’s not trust. but fear and…want. the curiosity gets the best of you. the weed and traces of tequila corrupt your senses. you should know better. despite the logic screaming in the back of your head, you nod along to natasha’s words.

“see? isn’t that easier?”

natasha’s eyes rakes down your body, tilting her head as if she’s just noticing you. noticing your developed figure with more muscles than the average 21 year old girl. perhaps she understands the allure. the stupid, lustful urge to fake stupidity at a chance of sleeping with you. but natasha regards herself to a much higher status than the girls on her team. it’s the reason she is team captain after all. every hive needs a queen bee.

“take off your shirt.” natasha commands.

she already dropped her hand from the collar. natasha patiently waits for you to follow the instructions. natasha arches an eyebrow when you haven’t made any movements. somehow that incentives you, pulling the tank top over your head and tossing it aside. the sudden rush of the chilly air hardens your nipples even more. your arms instinctively cover your chest needing the warmth and protection. both from the air and natasha’s predatory eyes.

natasha reaches over, peels your arms by digging her nails into your skin. “you don’t get to touch until i’m done with you.”

your breathing falters, heart skipping a beat at the sensation that washes over you. natasha’s faux sweet smile returns on her face. the other girl wastes no time. her hand finding solace on one breast, pinching and twisting your nipple. natasha’s smile spreads once you wince. the undeniable pleasure makes it hard to pretend you’re not into it. you cannot control arching your back into natasha’s unrelenting touch.

natasha’s fingers continue playing with your nipple. she finds the exact roughness that makes you pant. you need more though. even as natasha tugs and pulls, rolling your nipple between her fingers, it only makes you crave more. you unexpectedly let out a low moan. natasha chuckles, pausing her fingers.

“you want more, puppy? it’s not enough? huh? speak.”

your eyes feel heavy as you lift them up to stare into natasha’s. you try your best to form coherent thoughts. but all you can do is nod and say, “yes.”

“yes, what? you’ll have to do better than that. c’mon. you can be a good dog. tell me what you want.”

“more. i need more.”

the response isn’t enough for natasha. she slaps her hand across your breast. immediately afterwards the hand is pressed and wrapped around your throat. you’re still reeling and recovering from the slap. natasha whispers in a firm and clear voice.

“i know there’s more thoughts in that head. you’re not completely a dumb slut. you know what i want. c’mon.”

natasha squeezes the sides of your throat. the additional pressure does nothing for forming those sentences she wants out of you. your thoughts are leaking out of you as the time passes. the more natasha demands of you and touches you—the more your wetness pools more into your boxers. but natasha is right. you do know what she wants. the demanding tone of her voice paired with her roughness makes it clear. you wish you could spit out a, fuck you. yet where would that get you?

you groan once natasha tugs you by the neck, your lips brushing against each other. “f-fine. fine. god. please…natasha…i need more. i need you to fuck me…please.”

“ah! good puppy! you did it! see? you just need to be trained.”

natasha crashes her lips into yours as soon as the last words leave hers. you both moan at the immediate contact. all the years of fighting and hatred built up for this one moment. everything momentarily made sense. it clicked. natasha doesn’t ask for permission as her tongue creeps into your mouth. her grip is still firm on your neck. you graciously allow the girl access without hesitation. with quickness natasha sucks on your tongue making the most obscene noises to grace your ears.

you’re not sure when it happened, but natasha’s free hand already loosened the button on your pants and the zipper. it’s only when you feel the girl’s hand cupping your soaked pussy through your boxers that you noticed. your hips instinctively buck into the girl’s hand. natasha bites your lip in retaliation. once her teeth are removed, you taste a familiar metallic taste on your teeth.

“what the fuck natasha?” you touch your lips, pulling away slightly, to inspect the blood.

natasha only smiles, revealing a little bit of blood on her lips too. natasha rises on her knees, not saying a word, as she rolls her black thong down her legs. she sits back down next to you, in order to remove it completely. your eyes sparkle hopefully. the idea of fucking natasha or even tasting the cheerleader drives you crazy beyond repair. but natasha has other ideas.

once her thong is secured in hand, natasha commands, “open up, mutt.”

you obey, naturally, as natasha crumples the thong into a ball and shoves it into your mouth. as your eyes widen both in disbelief and at the faint taste of natasha, the girl pats your head.

“dogs have to be muzzled until they learn to obey and listen.”

you cannot even process the magnitude of her words before natasha’s hand slides down your boxers. her fingers dance across your tiny bush. you widen your legs in response. you’re practically panting, like the mutt natasha claims you are. her fingertips are already met with your slick. you don’t even know how it was possible to already be this wet. you must’ve been turned on a lot earlier and faster than you realized. you hold your breath when natasha briefly circles your clit, but it doesn’t last long.

without much warning, natasha sinks two fingers deep inside of you. you almost choke on the spit gathering in your throat. natasha surprises you by leaning into your neck, kissing and biting your neck. your eyes practically roll into the back of your head. your moans are muffled but natasha can still hear them. she curls her fingers then starts pumping them languidly. it’s definitely her way of teasing you, making you desperate for more. and you are. natasha savors the feeling of your pussy snug around her fingers. how warm and wet you feel every time her fingers move inside you. with each stroke, natasha can feel more of your wetness pooling around them.

but it’s still not enough. you know it and natasha knows it. natasha peels herself off your neck, removing the makeshift gag. an immediate whine leaves your lips. natasha rolls her eyes at your desperation.

“beg, mutt.”

natasha’s fingers have stalled until she gets what she wants. the girl stares expectantly. waiting with a subtle smile on her face because natasha knows.

“please, nat, faster…harder…it’s not enough, please. please, i’ll be good.”

“you will? then say you’re a pathetic mutt. then i’ll consider it.”

tears form in your eyes, as natasha starts moving her fingers in and out of you again. only giving you small doses of what you want.

“c’mon, say it.”

“i’m…fuck…okay. i’m a pathetic mutt. please.”

natasha’s giddiness translates into a giggle. she cannot believe she’s able to push you this far. it was almost too easy. natasha pretends to think it over. you’re about to protest but the thong is back in your mouth. then her fingers slam into you repeatedly, over and over, unrelenting and with no hesitation. through your muffled moans and cries, you can hear the squelching sounds of your cunt being fucked. natasha captures her bottom lip between her teeth. you’re completely blissed out. your head tipped back, bare chest rising and falling dramatically and eyes barely open. natasha can feel you tighten around her fingers. you whine pathetically not wanting to come so quickly. but natasha doesn’t care. somehow her fingers move even harder, pushing you even further to the edge. then her thumb sloppily massages circles over your clit. that’s all it takes for you to see white. the gag pushes out slightly. you bite down on it once your orgasm reaches its head.

you can hear natasha laughing, but it all sounds underwater to you. her fingers never once stop their force and speed. it’s all becoming too overwhelming as you attempt to squirm and wiggle out from her grasp. natasha’s free hand finds the back of your head. her fingers tangle in your hair, forcefully jerking your head back.

“only i get to tell you when you’re done, mutt.” natasha seethes near your ear. a text chimes on both your phones. time must be up soon. natasha groans, pulling her fingers out of your cunt.

the sudden empty feeling makes you almost weep. you stare at natasha with widened eyes. you can’t tell if you’re embarrassed or still horribly turned on. natasha removes her underwear before wiping her wet fingers on your chest. you watch as natasha shoves her thong into her tiny purse.

“don’t just fucking look at me. get dressed.”

once you’re dressed and somewhat decent again, you open your camera, noticing your busted lip. there’s bite marks on your neck and a few small hickeys.

“what the fuck natasha…c’mon. how am i supposed to explain this to everyone?”

you angle your neck towards the girl. natasha barely acknowledges them and shrugs. her expression is indifferent. natasha doesn’t even bother replying because the van door opens. the boys all stare nervously, like they’re half expecting to find a dead body. natasha pushes you off to the side, scooting out of the van, as if nothing happened.

[cake-apostate]

Years ago, I had a fanfic idea where the SMT protagonists replace the heroes of the Persona games. The joke was that they're all these badass fighters who could easily sweep the dungeons with their skill and experience, but they're also hilariously bad at the real life segments.

The fic didn't really work out, probably because I was trying to use too many games and too many characters, but I still like the idea.

So, let's say that one week after the end of their games, the heroes of SMT were put in the role of Joker from Persona 5 (the Persona game I played most recently).

The Outsiders

Aleph, Flynn, and Nanashi aren't from modern Japan, and they'd have a hell of a time trying to adapt.

Aleph would be an absolute disaster. He's a toddler in a man's body raised by a gladiator coach who thought he was rehabilitating an amnesiac. It's a miracle the lad can read.

That's not to say that Aleph is dumb; he couldn't go through his game if he couldn't make informed decisions for himself. He just lacks formal education, social awareness, and casual life experience.

At the very least, when something's going on that he doesn't understand, Aleph has learned to stay quiet and go with the flow. He'd probably be fine socially, especially as a silent protagonist who needs to listen more than he speaks.

On the other hand, Aleph is missing a ton of common knowledge, even more than the average resident of Tokyo Millennium. Everyone assumes he knows more than he does, especially since he doesn't always say when he doesn't know something.

If there's any nonstandard ending, it would be "Aleph fails all his quizzes, exams, and homework, and is expelled."

Nanashi is the opposite. Like Aleph, he doesn't know societal conventions, but unlike Aleph, he doesn't care about breaking them. Aleph came from the gutter and was told he could strive higher; Nanashi came from the gutter and he knows he can survive there.

My favored Nanashi is "Anarchy but made all the friendship choices." He's gotten to a point where he likes people but knows he doesn't need them. All social limits are artificial; why conform?

He's someone who sees a straight line between himself and his goals, and doesn't need to care about what other people think of him. He would not play along with any of the targets' threats, especially because he doesn't have the same kind of social context. Ooh, Kamoshida's going to get him expelled; do I even need school? Sure, Madarame, send the police after me; have you seen what I did to the last people who came after me? Medjed threatens to crash the Japanese economy; what does that even mean? He'd only see Kaneshiro as a problem, since Makoto is in immediate danger when they meet.

(He would at least try to make sure that the others wouldn't go down with him. If he gets expelled, he'll do his best not to drag Ryuji and Mishima down with him.)

Nonstandard ending: before Morgana mentions the change of heart, Nanashi straight up murders Kamoshida and spends the rest of the game evading justice.

Flynn is in a state of constant stress. This isn't his first time as a fish out of water, but at least his Tokyo had a high tolerance for weirdness. He's more socially aware than Aleph or Nanashi, but he knows little about modern Japanese culture and manners, and he knows that.

Flynn's personality took me the longest, but since SMT4 has no room for error in alignments, I think of him as an anxious perfectionist. He doesn't know why, but he's keenly aware that if he says or does just one thing wrong, it will all end in disaster.

Strangers see Flynn as cool, calm, and collected, but that's because he's afraid to let on that he doesn't know as much as they do. Of all the Phantom Thieves, he'd relate the most to Futaba, who also feels like a stranger to this city.

I feel like he'd have to pull the, "I'm a foreign exchange student" card a lot, and leaves other people to assume which country he's from. The only other countries he knows are France (from Isabeau's manga), Russia, China (Infernal Akira can ask if Mikado is in Russia or China), and maybe America.

Nonstandard ending: Flynn has no idea what a train is. Flynn gets lost on the way to school and never finds his way back. The end.

The High School Students

Kazuya, Naoki, and V-kun were high school students when their games began, so they wouldn't be too bad at modern times or school life. It's everything else that's the problem.

The way I see Kazuya, he had to grow and adapt to the postapocalypse more than anyone else. He's a fragile human with no special enhancements or any real support net. To survive, he had to be tough, he had to be stubborn, he had to assert his dominance and take no shit from anyone. He stayed alive by shutting down his feelings and only showing weakness to the people he trusted. That's how he became the best demon summoner.

That also makes him the worst Wild Card. He's terrible at making friends; other people would have to put in the effort to break his armor. His comrades might easily write him off as a bossy control freak, and they'd only associate with him when they need help.

Persona 5's Confidants do usually begin with Joker wanting someone's help (Tae's medicine, Iwai's guns, etc.), so he might have a bit of an easier time starting the Social Link than in other games, but he'd probably screw it up somehow.

He's a good person, but he's terrible at expressing it because demons would see it as a weakness.

Since the mask he wears is so thick, he'd probably have a powerful starting Persona. At the same time, he wouldn't really experience an identity crisis; he knows who he is under the mask, and has no trouble being himself around the people he loves.

Also, something I see in him more than any other protagonist is that he's willing to cut ties with the party members if he disagrees with their methods, even if he doesn't have a solution. All of the heroes fight their friends, but for some reason it struck me the most that Kazuya didn't have a plan to fix Tokyo when he fought the Messians and Gaians (who for all their faults, did). If he disagrees with the other Phantom Thieves, he's leaving.

And on a lighter note, Kazuya might know exactly where in Tokyo to find real guns: the antique shop in Kichijoji.

Ryuji: "Check out what I got!" *takes out fake gun*

Kazuya: "Look at what I have." *takes out real gun*

Ryuji: "Hey, cool, you found that store that sells fake guns!"

Kazuya: "...Yes. I found the store that sells fake guns."

Nonstandard ending: Kazuya refuses to use the change of heart because he saw with his own eyes how messing with minds destroyed Aoi (the heroine) from the inside. Kazuya leaves the Phantom Thieves and brings the targets to justice his own way, probably by use of demons.

Naoki is the opposite. He had to toughen up, but he never had to put on a mask. Unlike Kazuya, demons don't see him as prey by default, and now he's strong enough to beat any other demon to death with his bare hands. Demons won't think any less of him if he gets weepy and emotional. (Although admittedly, this was because I think it's funny for the strongest being in the universe to be shy and awkward.)

I see Naoki as traumatized. He wants to be left alone and isn't fully comfortable returning to ordinary student life. At the same time, he's 'just' going to be quiet and antisocial; if he does end up talking to people, he wouldn't shoot himself in the foot like Kazuya. He'd get along fine with his teammates... if he had any.

Nocturne is the only game where you have no human battle companions (vanilla SMT V barely passes with Tao, and Yuzuru and Ichiro are still fighting on your side, just elsewhere). The only competent human helping the Demi-Fiend is Hijiri, who is strictly a noncombatant. In other words, Naoki's not used to fighting alongside humans.

It wouldn't occur to Naoki to bring Ryuji to the Metaverse. Morgana, yes, because he already has a Persona, but Ryuji can't defend himself. So maybe he'd confide in Ryuji and ask for his help in the real world, but he wouldn't become a party member.

Most of the subsequent party members join because of the others. Yusuke follows Ann, Makoto figures out they're the Phantom Thieves because of how they hang around each other, etc.

Nonstandard ending: that ending gambit required a bunch of people working together.

With V-kun, it's a different story. The question is no longer, "how would his experiences make him a bad Persona user;" it's now, "how does the plot work if he's literally God?" I think there's a fun crack fic where he tries to juggle being the rebellious leader of the Phantom Thieves while he's also doing God stuff. And since Law is the only ending that leaves the status quo setting intact, he's not also running Bethel, he seeks to control the world through faith like Yaldabaoth. The irony is staggering.

There also needs to be an excuse for why he doesn't use his God powers to instantly solve all the Confidants' problems. Sure, human problems must be solved with human means, but there's "reconnect with your mother and discuss what is truly important to you," and then there's "get out of this predatory cult that blackmails tons of people," and "I need help developing this lifesaving medicine but I'm being blocked by the establishment." If he's trying to be a benevolent god, he'd want to solve those problems anyways.

And, of course, there's the obligatory climax where the Phantom Thieves discover that their leader is God, feel betrayed, but then remember that their friendships were genuine.

Nonstandard ending: "Hey, Igor, Aogami tells me that you're not what you seem. Care to explain?"

Misc.

The Confidants with these guys would be hilarious.

Aleph needs Ryuji and Mishima to explain the concept of a maid fetish to him. When he does end up hiring Ms. Kawakami, he has no idea why anyone would be interesting in anything but cleaning. Not because he doesn't know what sex is, but because he knows that you can hire actual prostitutes.

I think it's cool that Chiyaha has actual psychic powers unrelated to Personas. So her readings turn up the actual pasts of the heroes, but most are so outlandish that she doesn't believe what she sees. "...It says that you're God."

In a separate fic, I wrote (but have not yet published) a bit where Kazuya buys three Holy Stones from Chihaya because he bought that kind of shady stuff from the Messians and Gaians all the time.

Nanashi is unimpressed with Kaneshiro and his threats. The Ashura-Kai did so much worse to everyone in Tokyo, and both of the bosses he knew could do things like throw lightning and fire at people who pissed them off. Kaneshiro is just a man with money. His thugs don't even have guns! Nanashi is going to murder everyone in that room.

[cybiirz]

ೃ⁀➷ LATE NIGHT REALISATIONS

Gepard x Gn!Reader

Sypnosis : You had managed to successfully escape the scene and left the Captain to fend for himself. The aftermath of said scene could not be one which you had expected however. Turns out, taking a late night walk with an old friend can lead to realisations, ones of different kinds…

WC : 3.1k

Warnings : None! Fluffy, could turn angsty…Tiny mention of Sampo, idiots in love..? The reader plays as two different people for the plot, you will see what I mean but please keep in mind that the thief and reader are the same just in case you forget! Might make a part 3 before I go back to school <3

Read part 1 || part 2 || part 2.5 || part 3

Ever since the entire café debuckle, the people of the Underworld had been given the food and water that they needed. The food was mainly given towards the sick as many had been living in anguish due to the lack of nutrients that they were receiving. Whereas the drinks were equally spread out among the people, allowing as many people to get their fill.

It pained you in all honesty, to see these people living a life that they had no choice to live in. If they were born here, they would stay here. Well, apart from the exception of Bronya, but, not many people knew of her story in the first place.

Nevertheless, you sat with the children of Boulder Town as you supervised the little rascals who ran around together. Not really doing anything, simply just messing around in general. It was entertaining to say the least. You were perched up on a crate as you giggled at their antics before hearing a ping from your phone this time.

After picking up the device, a message from Sampo was clear as day on the screen. You clicked onto the scammer’s message before reading said message. Now, it turns out, that strange lady who had guided you down the furnace the first time was not-so-surprisingly a man. A man named Sampo, who had unbelievable amounts of charisma. Whilst you were aware of his… dealings, if you will, you had grown fairly close with the man. But that didn’t mean you could avoid his teasing remarks.

“Yo (name), I was just up on the streets when I saw more wanted posters of you. Looks like that Captain is on your back, be careful (╥︣﹏᷅╥᷅)” You let out a scoff after reading his message. Of course Gepard would be more cautious of you ever since that whole situation.

You ran a hand through your hair and let out a sigh before sitting back slightly. Well, looks like stealing from the Underworld would prove to be more of a challenge from now on. Thankfully, going up as little ol’ (name) was still an option. No one would ever suspect you.

Meanwhile, up on the surface…

It was late at night now, the bright specks of light scattered the sky as the moon shone down onto the ghost-like streets. Gepard was finally given some time to take rest as a few of his guards had sworn to protect the land. Not to mention that the rate of Fragmentum monsters was not as large back in that area. Soon enough however, he would have to get back to protecting the city.

The said man was sitting in his bathtub, the warm water reaching just below his collarbone as his arms rested on the edges of the tub. His eyes were closed as his breathing was steady. His mind was constantly clouded with the thoughts of strategies on how to push the front line forward and different formations on how to take on the monsters.

But that was not the only thing. You had become a much larger target to him, which only caused you to be on his radar at all times. Gepard’s mind finally thought about what happened at the last meeting with you. After being dragged away by a few of the guards, he had woken up and immediately snagged his weapon which was laid beside him, next to his bed.

Even with the constant nagging of him being told to not leave until they were sure that no side effects had taken place, the Captain still refused and was practically on the hunt for you. His long strides took him back to the place of the crime which had guards surveilling the area and a few more checking for clues. At the sight of the Captain, they each straightened up and addressed him.

After giving a nod back, he began to look around himself. His eyes were peeled for anything that seemed out of place, and lo and behold, a glittering object was dropped onto the floor. Immediately, his gloved hand reached out and picked up the object before inspecting it. It seemed to be a badge of some sort, except the carving on said badge had worn out overtime it seems. Definitely was not taken care of, he thought.

The only thing that seemed to concern the man was that this badge looked strangely familiar. After looking around and seeing that the guards were more focused on cleaning up the place, Gepard pocketed the badge and planned to show it to his sister to see if she recognised it. He highly doubted that the Silvermane guards could create any connections with it.

That badge was now laying on the countertop beside him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and grabbed the object before observing it again. It was all so disturbing how he recognised the piece of metal but also didn’t. His brows furrowed as he kept searching in his mind what on earth could be the link between him and this.

Eventually, a groan of frustration could be heard as he placed it back down. Gepard had caught a glimpse of his fingertips as they began to prune up just a bit, as he realised he had to probably leave the bath now.

The droplets of water cascaded down his fairly well built body as he wrapped a towel tightly around his waist. Grabbing a separate towel, he began to dry his hair in the mirror, watching as his blonde strands became all messy. He let the smaller towel wrap around his neck as he grabbed the edge of the sink before letting out a deep groan. This whole thing was becoming more frustrating by the second.

However, he chose to try and take his mind off of it as he treaded out of the bathroom, still drying his hair with one side of the towel, the other still laying on his shoulder. Gepard’s balcony windows were open as the somewhat harsh midnight breeze blew his curtains in towards the room. The moon light poured through the gap as it fell silent, the curtains now swaying gently as if dancing.

The silence was suddenly broken as a crash could be heard from outside. Gepard instantly dashed to look off the balcony ledge, only to see a shadowed figure who had knocked over a bin and was frantically trying to clean up the mess now made.

His captain-like mindset caused him to get dressed swiftly, his hair still slightly wet as he threw his clothes on. Maybe, just maybe, this was the thief that he had longed to capture. Even if it was not, he would still be helping an innocent citizen, right?

Meanwhile, with you…

After saying farewell to the children and hugging their parents goodbye, you left Boulder Town through the furnace core. Your body had managed to adapt to the seemingly endless flight of stairs, yet you were still lacking air when you reached the top.

Still feeling slightly woozy from your loss of oxygen, you stumbled around slightly and held yourself up against the wall. Thank goodness it was night time, otherwise people may have taken you for an extreme drunkard. You began walking, still keeping yourself upright with the wall.

Just as you felt well enough to walk normally after catching your breath, you pushed yourself off of the stone material. Unfortunately, in the process of doing so, you had managed to bump into one of the metal bins which were scattered in the streets.

The material instantly collided with the pavement and made probably the loudest noise ever! (It was not that loud, only seemed that way due to the quiet streets.)

“Shit, shit, shit!” Panicking slightly, you kneeled down and began cleaning up the mess, much to your disgust. There wasn’t much in that trash can, only a poster of a terribly drawn black haired man, a few soda cans and some leftover food.

You cringed at the smell but cleaned it all up eventually. After getting the bin to stand upright again, you exhaled and turned around, only to spot a certain figure coming towards you. You squinted your eyes to try and focus on the figure as it progressively came closer to you. The figure took impressively long strides as it appeared in front of you in what seemed like less than a second.

Before you knew it, you were staring at the face of Gepard himself. You widened your eyes in shock and became slightly scared before you realised that you were (name), not the thief of Belobog right now. So you simply lifted your hand and scratched the back of your neck as you stared up at him.

“Evening Gepard. How are you?” You asked him with a nervous expression. But of course, you wouldn’t escape his observant gaze as you watched him raise his eyebrow.

“(Name)? What are you doing out here so late? Are your parents not worried about you?” He questions with concern. The two of you knew each other when you were still kids. In fact, you two were actually great friends. But as Gepard grew older, more training had cursed him which caused you to slowly grow apart from each other. You still talked from time to time, but even that was put on hold as you became the thief which he was unaware of. You did feel guilty having to put him through such things, but it was for a good cause. You just never believed there was any way to convince him of that.

“My parents are fine, and uhm, I’m out here cause…?” Your eyes darted around quickly to look for an excuse before you looked up slightly and spotted the full moon. “Ah yes! I was out here to watch the moon. Not every night you get to see the full moon in all its glory you know?” You applauded yourself internally at your save.

Gepard looked up and noticed the moon as well before letting a noise of agreement. “Well, I suppose that is true. But you should not be out at this time, it’s midnight and you should be getting home,” He replied after looking back at you. Somehow he was all dressed in his uniform, you guessed that either he was on patrol already or was just incredibly fast at getting changed.

“I guess…Well, I’ll get going now!” Your response was quick as you wanted to leave right away. Even though he knew not of your “other self”, you still felt awkward to be in his presence. Quickly, you began to walk off as you held your head straight before hearing his footsteps slowly catch up to you. You turned your head immediately, only to catch him walking just a bit behind you. “You need something?” You asked.

“I was just thinking that I should escort you home. It’s late and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to an old friend,” Gepard replied sheepishly with a faint but noticeable tone of pink on his cheeks. You paused momentarily before thinking. The two of you haven’t had a proper conversation in a while, what’s the harm anyway?

“Sure I guess, as long as you’re not busy,” You said to him before turning and slowly walking again. He gave no reply and instead walked beside you, his boots making loud footsteps in contrast to your light shoes. The silence that fell among you two was comfortable in a way. It felt quite nice to simply be as the two of you were before, old friends who did almost everything together. The silence was broken when Gepard spoke up.

“So, how has life been treating you recently?” He questioned in a hushed tone as his gaze stayed straight. Your breath hitched just barely at his ask, obviously you couldn’t tell him about the robberies. Hell, he’d probably execute you on the spot. So instead you made up a lie.

“Ah, nothing much. Just been relaxing at home most of the time. I guess that’s why I wanted to come out tonight, missed the cold air. What about you?” Your reply was smooth, thank goodness. He thought for a second before speaking.

“It’s been…Alright, I suppose,” He said bluntly. You could tell something was bothering him, and it was most likely the thief thing. But you wanted to hear him say it for himself, so you pushed just a little bit.

“Oh? Only alright? Usually you would say it’s been at least great with the front line. Is there anything else on your mind?” You tried not to make yourself sound too persistent. But it seemed that whatever was on his mind was bothering him too much to even notice.

“Well…just do not tell anyone ok?” He asked, looking at you briefly. You answered with a nod, suddenly becoming a bit concerned. He sighed deeply before speaking.

“Recently, there’s been this thief that keeps popping up more often. You might’ve heard of them since they’ve gotten more common nowadays. But honestly, it’s been stressing me to no end, no matter how hard I try, they always manage to escape. They leave pretty much no pieces of evidence and, as much as I dislike my emotions to get the better of me, it infuriates me sometimes,” He was complaining now, that’s for sure. You smiled internally at your success, but of course you still felt somewhat bad. I mean, you were doing this to a friend, albeit an old friend but still. But before you could even give a reply, he began speaking again.

“But that’s not it,” He brought his hand up to cover his mouth slightly. You looked at him confused before spotting his cheeks become slightly more red, and it was only growing the more he spoke about the thief. “They’re always giving me a challenge, that’s one thing I appreciate. But for crying out loud, whenever I’m near them, I cannot help but feel as if I’m falling deeper into them. Their teasing, when they mock me, when they beat me. It only makes me more intrigued and it’s just…I cannot even describe it,” He seemed to be almost whining but also…complimenting you? This was not something you had ever seen in him that’s for sure.

But you didn’t reply for a while this time. You kept your head held low as you felt a bit of blood rushing to your cheeks. What on earth was he thinking by saying something like that? I mean, it was certainly something to hear him talk about you in such a way, but it was like a different person. You wore different clothes when you acted as a thief, you wore a mask and you mostly wore a hood to hide your hair colour. As you opened your mouth to speak, Gepard managed to get the first word in.

“My apologies if that was too much information. I just needed to get it off my chest, I hope you’re not uncomfortable,” He spoke with a bashful face as he turned to look at you with nervousness in his eyes. You reciprocated the action as you faced him as well.

“No no, it’s fine, I don’t mind. Besides, we used to share everything together, right?” You replied as you put your hands up beside you to show him it was truly alright.

“Thank you, (name). Although I cannot stress how much I would like for you to keep this between us?” He questioned.

“Of course, I don’t plan on telling anyone, do not worry,” You answered with a smile. Silence encased the two of you again as you slowly continued making your way back home.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, you approached the steps towards your door. You made your way up the small yet wide steps before turning back and bowing your head to thank Gepard. He told you it was no problem as the two of you stood in silence for a moment. You looked away briefly before turning and opening the door. As you turned the knob, your eyes switched back to the man behind you before saying one last thing.

“It seems you don’t hate that thief as much as you think Gepard. You talked about them like you actually enjoyed their company,” You said with a gentle laugh before smiling slightly. His eyes were wide with surprise as you left him there to wonder what your words meant.

After entering a not shockingly empty house, you made your way up to your room and immediately got changed before flopping onto your bed. You laid on your back with your forearm across your forehead and your other arm on your abdomen. You stared up at the ceiling as you thought about what Gepard had said. Was he really truthful with his words? Did he actually feel those things for you? Was what you said afterwards completely stupid?

You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that you had to sleep to take your mind off of this. It was all too much, and it was honestly making you overthink everything. So you let your eyes flutter shut as you drifted off into a deep slumber.

Meanwhile with Gepard…

He stood at your steps for a few seconds as he took in your words. Were you right? No, there was no way he enjoyed that criminal’s company. They violated the code and conduct that this city was meant to preserve. And they always mocked him. He would never enjoy such a thing, no way. He kept trying to convince himself.

Gepard looked around a bit and observed the two statues that lay parallel to each other, just next to your door steps. He found himself zoning out for a second before he felt his face contort into one of bewilderment. Upon closer inspection, he noticed some sort of crest carved into the centre of the statues, most likely symbolising your family name.

The captain inched closer and stared at the carving for a while. Why did he feel like he had seen that before? But where. He then remembered that it most certainly was your family crest, since when the two of you would play together, he would spot this exact symbol on your parents uniform.

So why on earth did he feel as if he had seen it again. But not during your childhood. After snapping back to reality, he quickly realised how odd he looked staring at a statue, even if there was no one around to see him. He turned away embarrassed before striding back to his living quarters. He looked back at your house and watched the final light turn off, leaving the place in complete darkness.

All he knew was that there was something about your family that was bothering him. And he would get to the bottom of it, even if it killed him…

A/N : Second fanfic done and dusted. Although it may not be a lot I cannot thank the people who have currently liked, reblogged and commented on my first fic enough. I was honestly so surprised when I actually received notifications of people reading my work and enjoying it. If enough requests are made, I will happily make a part 3 as I have loadsss of ideas for this kind of series. Of course, if you would like a different character story, feel free to leave a request and I will get it done as soon as possible!

[robotlesbianjavert]

Ten headcanons about spinner please

well you asked so nicely. okay!

10) i think i've already mentioned this in the past and some fics but despite what you expect from someone with reptile associations he's not anymore affected by the cold than any other warm-blooded person. and he knows it's a silly thing to get sensitive about but well when people assume he gets a bit heated!! so to say!!

9) he first learned how to use a knife, and in particular knife throwing tricks, from his mom, who is most of the born and bred country rep in his family and grew up with very little else to do and really needed a cool party trick. between her and toga, knife-throwing is his only surefire way to bond with women.

8) who is the biggest bara rep in league of legends. idk mordekaiser looks promising. in any case spinner's first glimmer of realizing that he is gay was accidentally stumbling upon LoL bara doujinshi, on the internet. somehow the continuing fascination for bara did not translate to real life where he keeps going gaga for weird skinny weirdos with disappointing t&a (UNTIL shigaraki's ujiko-provided glow-up)

7) his backup plan for going to the city after seeing stain on tv if he failed to find and join the league of villains was just to hit all the clubs and get laid. but as a virgin and hikkikomori he was very nervous about this option and was kind of relieved that he could just join a terrorist group instead.

6) i used this one in a fic too lmao. as a kid his claws were filed down regularly so that other kids and the rest of the town didn't freak out and think he was gonna gut them. cuz they're evil. as part of the headcanon of it all he does have weird hang-ups and

5) backseat gamer. like, pathological. much like myself as a child watching my stepbrothers play zelda or conker's bad fur day, he will sit over shigaraki's shoulder (and anyone else's i guess but he's literally so under-socialized he doesn't know anyone else who plays videogames irl. sad!) and be like i wouldn't have done that. you're supposed to go over there. why aren't you using all these cheat codes that i know (they don't work). thankfully shigaraki is cool with this cuz he loves to argue. i actually consider this canon enough given that we have now seen spinner hanging over shigaraki's shoulder as he's playing games.

4) were a tumblr equivalent to exist in bnhaverse spinner would have an account and he would try to be crazy stealth and not have it associated to any other social accounts ever and he would be a hater on it and you could not pay him to commit voter fraud for something against his morals (shipping polls) (he would have voted destiel!! he knows he is cas-coded!!) but he would create so many dummy accounts manually by hand HIMSELF like a hard worker to influence results as much as he could. without paying people. or getting bots. he has a pure hater soul.

3) related to the above spinner is a constant hater online. people ask him what does he ever like and he just regurgitates whatever video essay he watched recently that had a nice thing to say. but his hater stances are 100% original. not to say that he never Likes something about anything but he's dogshit at expressing it.

2) part of his issues is that he was very unintentionally detached from any other of his heteromorph-related family that he could relate to (a lot of the family was probably located in cities) aside from whatever parents or siblings, which contributed further to his feelings of isolation from the community he grew up in, and his heteromorphic traits were just enough more apparent compared to the immediate family that he was more targeted by the community he grew up in. so he's both discriminated and marginalized by the community, and has a harder time finding solace in his family to cope.

1 ) i must once again stand by spinner's hybistrophilia. like really specifically his true fantasy is a cool suave older man who does a lot of serial killing and is willing to take spinner under his wing and say ah i see you have a lot of potential. but then he fell in love with shigaraki. that's how you know it's true love. i guess you can argue that shigaraki is an old soul.

[officialleehadan]

Artifact Examined

Computer Science 101

+++

Quintus was, among many things, an expert on magical artifacts.

It was, in fact, how he started as a mage. Not as a battle-mage, or a healer, or any of the other things that many Guildmasters did before they became a Guildmaster.

Better yet, Quintus wasn’t just a Guildmaster. He was the Archmagus of the entire Mage’s Guild, and had been for most of twenty years.

“This is a nasty piece of work,” he said when they were seated in his workroom and he was eagerly investigating the artifact they brought him. “Beautiful, but nasty. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Can you tell us what it does? I’m not a specialist in artifacts,” Nathan said. Quintus made tea before taking them into his workroom. It was a strange mix of herbs and spices that almost tasted like Adrienne’s favorite chai from the tiny coffee shop around the corner from her dorms. “We found it down in a lizard cave. One of their own was mutated into a monstrosity. It turned back when we deactivated the artifact.”

“It’s a multi-stage transformation device,” Quintus said after examining the artifact a while longer. “the first stage is fear, targeted on a small area. In a town, or in the lizard cave you mentioned, it would produce an effect just on the creatures nearest. Say, a few shiplengths in every direction.”

“Enough for a smallish town or a largeish castle,” Adrienne said after some calculation. She wasn’t entirely sure how ‘shiplengths’ translated to ‘feet’ but it was reasonably easy to get a general idea of the whole business. “So that’s the first stage, what’s the next?”

“The nearest creature with an appropriate temperament begins to mutate,” Quintus explained. Nathan left his tea beside Adrienne and went to examine the artifact. Adrienne wasn’t sure what they could see, but she was sure it was more interesting than whatever she could see. Nathan mentioned that mages could see magic, something not in the game mechanics, and that he was learning to do it himself. “As you observed in the lizard cave. Likely the one that was mutated was their leader, or their most powerful member.”

“They were trying to keep it in their cave, but it wasn’t going well,” Adrienne remembered aloud, although she wasn’t all that involved in the discussion. “it got out. Killed a bunch of people. Looked like it was doing the same to its own kind when it could.”

“Unrestrained aggression is part of the mutation glyph,” Quintus said. He turned the artifact to her, but Adrienne only shrugged. It looked exactly the same as it did before, as far as she could tell. “You said only two of the glyphs were activated?”

“We couldn’t figure out what the rest did,” Nathan said, and turned it over so Quintus could see the signature on the bottom. “And as much as we do want to know the rest, this is what we’re most interested in.”

“Ah,” Quintus said and his face darkened. “We do see this sort of thing now and again, as you both know, but it is rare for a troublemaker to be so obvious in their filthy work.”

“Do you know the signature?” Adrienne asked hopefully. It was a long shot, but there was a chance. “If you can point us at the problem, we’ll handle it.”

“I have no doubt you could and would,” Quintus assured her and offered a consoling smile that did not promise anything good. “You are both more than capable, especially together. I wish I could do as you ask.”

“You don’t know them,” Nathan said and returned to his seat beside Adrienne. “Is there anything you can tell us about it?”

“I can tell you that the next phase is the same as the first, on a much larger scale,” Quintus said darkly as he turned the artifact over in his hands. “The fear would radiate for leagues until everything in range was in a terror. Animals would flee uncontrollably. Humans would be in a constant state of anxiety, or aggression depending on their temperaments.”

“And after that?”

“Mutation again. Spread larger. Dozens or hundreds of targets rather than a single one.”

“And the last glyph?’ Adrienne was almost afraid to ask, but they needed to know. “What does the last one do?”

“It absorbs the power of every death caused by the victims,” Quintus explained without flinching, but his fury was visible. “Vicious work, but work we should, in a small way, be grateful for.”

“Why?” Nathan asked. He was pale at the explanation of the artifact’s effect. Adrienne couldn’t blame him. She was pretty shaken too. “If you don’t know who made it, how do we deal with this?”

“There is a clue that does provide a direction,” Quintus said, and allowed himself a small, hard smile. “The artifact is made of water-quartz. This particular shade of blue is only found in the highest mountains to the west, and a piece this large would be incredibly expensive. The dwarves will remember who bought it.”

Another quest. One that took them even further from the tower they were supposed to be seeking out. Still, Adrienne couldn’t turn away from this kind of evil. Not knowing how terrible it would be if the creator was allowed to run rampage. She met Nathan’s eyes and found the same decision in his eyes that was surely in hers.

“To the dwarves,” she said, and sighed. “I don’t suppose you can make us a portal at least part of the way? If this mage is causing problems, we need to get ahead of them as soon as we can.”

“I will do better yet,” Quintus said, and set the artifact into a chest that shone with wards so powerful even Adrienne could see them. “Stay here as my guests for the night. Tomorrow I will have transportation arranged, and a letter of introduction written. The Mages Guild will back you, with all the might our Guild may provide at your call.”

 +++

Computer Sciences 101: (FULL COLLECTION)

Computer Science 101 Volume 1

+

Computer Sciences 101 - V2 (for full collection, see V1)

Artifact Examined (NEW!)

[songofthesibyl]

Will You Be Nothing?

“Teind-payer,” it said. “Teind-payer, will you be nothing?”

I just finished Elizabeth Marie Pope’s The Perilous Gard, a wonderful Tam Lin retelling that I of course couldn’t help compare to ACOTAR—its version of Tamlin also has blond hair, wears a golden mask at one point, is wracked with depression, guilt, and grief (and a bit of a temper). Its heroine, Kate, is also thorny, becomes trapped in an Under the Mountain-type place called the Hill with something called the Weight upon her—the crushing depression and claustrophobia of the constant darkness and stone above her, the impossibility of her ever getting out. 

“But what you see before you now is not a dream. You are awake. You can ride that horse out of the circle this moment, if you choose, and not one of us will lift a finger to stop you from going. But will you go? Fail your brother again, and go? Live with that knowledge for the rest of your life? Or will you hold to your purpose, and come?”

Its Tamlin, too, (named Christopher), is imprisoned, with a creature that reminded me a bit of the Attor administering psychological torture for weeks to make him want to die (as the Tithe payment, or Teind as it’s called here). To break him. Getting into his head like a Daemati, or like his own thoughts reflected, or Rhysand to Tamlin in ACOFAS. He too in constant darkness.

“Ask yourself, teind-payer. Do you in your heart of hearts believe that he will come? Why should he? Has he ever truly cared for you? Why should he? Who killed his mother? Who wrecked the life of his father? Who hated his wife? Who lost his daughter? When have you ever—until now—brought anything to anyone you love except heartbreak and shame? How do you know but that if you go on you may not do it again? One act now, and you are free forever. Why not? What have you to live for?”

It was a satisfying, and painful contrast to the treatment of Tamlin’s torment UTM that I’ve tried to write of in my fics. I think his torture was largely psychological. Rhysand was more resistant to that type of torture—not completely impervious, he mentions wanting to die, starting to enjoy being cruel—but he had already seemingly been broken. If Velaris was known, half of its population would have been killed, the other half enslaved, and the city burned to the ground. But Amarantha didn’t know, so there was really nothing she had over him. For Tamlin, that guilt and grief made him an easy target. But even when he had sent Feyre away, and given himself over to the Mountain, he hadn’t broken yet. It took from summer to autumn, the same time period it takes Christopher, to agree to go to his doom, to want it. 

I won’t give any more details, but I highly recommend it as what UTM should have been for Tamlin and Feyre. For showing the ludicrousness of redemption by death. For highlighting the psychological torture under the Hill and its effects on both characters. For not making the male victim lesser for it; for his needing to be saved, his inability to save her while underneath, not being a red flag.

All quotes from The Perlious Gard by Elizabeth Marie Pope.

[anxious-witch]

Inertia 3

Summary: Newton's first law expresses the principle of inertia: the natural behavior of a body is to move in a straight line at constant speed. In the absence of outside influences, a body's motion preserves the status quo.

Jan choose a direction of his life the moment he walked out of his parents house and cut all contact with them. He didn't want anything to do with them, or God anymore. Even his soulmark he wished he could leave behind. But when Nace Jordan joins the band, with a mark matching his own, can Jan keep going the same way he did? Or will the force make him change a direction?

Pairings: Jan Peteh/Nace Jordan

Warnings: Mentions of pretty severe insomnia, very heavy religious trauma, a character kind of having God complex during sex, smut, slight mentions of hallucinations caused by sleep deprivation, vomiting

Notes:

AO3 Link

I am still reeling from the last night's concert so y'all get an update a bit early. Beware that there is smut in this chapter, although not very detailed, but just to give heads up. Also check warnings in the end notes if religion is a sensitive topic. Anddd I'll have to add vomiting as a tag if anyone is sensitive to that. This one is pretty angsty

The corruption begins with the mouth, the tongue, the wanting.

The first poem in the world

is I want to eat.

Erica Jong, from "Where It Begins," Fruits & Vegetables: Poems By Erica Jong (Holt, 1971)

Jan tried to heed Kris' advice. He was polite to Nace, and made sure there was always, always another person there. He stopped himself from staring at him and avoided eye contact altogether.

Nace, for his part, didn't seem to push once he saw Jan was always keeping a barrier between them. Instead, he seemed to befriend everyone else.

Literally everyone else.

It started with Bojan. He was the easiest target, after all. Always so friendly and trusting. Nace paid attention to when Bojan felt insecure and anxious and simply did his best to encourage him. Or distract him. Jan could still taste his own bitterness at the prospect. They all did that for Bojan, of course, but it was primarily something Martin used to do. Who was Nace to try and replace him, not only as a bassist, but to try and fill out his spot in their friend group?

Bojan didn’t seem to mind it, though. He seemed thankful, if anything so Jan kept his mouth shut. Bojan tended to befriend everyone, anyway. Not that big of a deal.

Next was Jure.

Jan didn’t expect them to get along. Jure could be unpredictable, with ideas so chaotic even Jan would be horrified at. It often caused Kris headaches with multiples injuries Jure came to practice with. He really thought there was no chance of Nace being able to handle that. Jure couldn’t be stopped in his ideas, once he had them.

Except, Nace didn’t even try to do that. He simply let Jure have his crazy ideas, and simply helped him pick up the pieces. He was there to patch him up or offer to drive him home. He built Jure’s trust in him and as the rest of them, slowly uncovered a tamer side of him. When Jan saw Jure fall asleep on Nace’s shoulder after one practice, he knew Nace won him over.

Kris was the last one to fall under Nace’s spell. It took a bit more time than with the others. Kris was more reserved sort. That was part of the reason he and Jan got along so well. They both like to analyzed the situation and the person before making any decisions.

But Nace knew what he was doing. He knew it very well. He made sure to memorize their schedule and help Kris manage them when needed. Kris got stressed easily over it, especially when one was late-and truth to be told, Jan was aware that was usually him-so when he did, Nace gently took over to make a new schedule. Which Kris was certainly always grateful for.

The true turning point though, was after a long day of practice, where their producer ripped their new piece apart. It was necessary and they were all grateful, but it took a tool. Bojan was anxious over not writing a good enough song, Jure was crashing hard due to his lack of sugar, and Kris was out of his mind over how fixing everything will impact their schedule and if they had enough time for everything.

Jan was doing his best to walk Bojan through the breathing exercise that helped him with his anxiety. He tried not to fall under the stress like the rest of them did. If Bojan had a breakdown, they were all fucked. The rest, they could deal with.

Then Nace appeared. He gave Jure a chocolate bar, nodded at Bojan and Jan and told Bojan he would drive him home. The he handed Kris his correct coffee order and said they can go over schedule together tomorrow. Jan had never seen a look of such pure relief on Kris’ face as he did then. Nace gently smiled at him, and Kris smiled back.

In that moment, Jan knew for certain that he lost, once again. Nace gained Kris’ trust. Which left him alone in his suspicion. And he was more suspicious than ever. Why was Nace trying so hard to be liked? It was ridiculous notion. He had to have a reason for it. No one was that nice.

Jan refused to give in.

It all came to a head in late November. Streets were cold, Jan could see his breath as he walked to the studio. For Joker Out, there was no time busier than now.

They were in a competition to be Slovenian's Eurovision entry and the 8th of December was growing closer. They were under a lot of pressure. Especially Bojan.

But as the date grew closer, the rest of them began to feel it, too. Jan's terrible sleeping habits certainly got worse.

Having insomnia sucked enough under normal circumstances, but having it under stress, which caused headaches which made him unable to fall asleep even more. It drove him insane.

Others tried to help him. Kris bought all sorts of calming teas, Jure researched ways to help him sleep and installed an app with calming sounds on his phone. Bojan even went as far as to learn some scalp massage, which felt nice, but only helped him with an one hour nap.

Still, none of it solved an actual problem of Jan feeling like the nervous energy was cursing through him like electricity. Worse yet, not sleeping more than two or three hours a night started to affect him.

His brain felt fuzzy and slow. Like was trying to stretch out a gum. Even his movements were slower. It made him more irritable, too.

When Bojan put his legs in his lap and began talking mile an hour, Jan felt his temper rise. It wasn’t something he usually minded, but with how hard it was to concentrate on anything today, Bojan’s pointless chattering got on his nerves quickly.

“And then Jure jumped over the stream and almost fell in. I was laughing so hard I almost fell in the stream and-“

“Bojan, just be fucking quiet for once.”

There was a stunned silence after Jan snapped at him. Bojan bit his lip and slowly pulled his legs from Jan’s lap. Jan massaged his temples.

“Sorry,” Bojan mumbled before leaving.

Jan felt more than he saw Kris glaring at him before he went after Bojan, probably to comfort him. Jan really couldn’t bring himself to care. His head was pounding and all he wanted was to be able to fall asleep. He could apologize and make amends once he felt like a human being again.

They continued the practice soon after. Unfortunately, the lack of sleep also made Jan more prone to mistakes. Which in turn irritated him more. In the end, Bojan ended the practice early, which was rare these days, due to busy schedule.

"Okay, let's stop here for the day. Jan, please try to get some sleep. We really need to perfect this bit by the end of the week."

Jan cursed and hastily put his guitar down before storming to the bathroom. He cupped his hands and poured water over them. Then took a deep breath and simply shoved his face in the ice-cold water.

He completely let himself feel the cold water on his burning face. He held his breath underwater for as long as he could stand and then opened his mouth to let out a silent scream into the water. Stupid insomnia. Stupid, useless body unable to even give him proper amount of sleep.

He waited for long enough to assume the others probably left. Gave them a chance to escape. It was clear he wasn’t in a good mood and as much as they were aware of how he got when he had insomnia…it was always an unpleasant surprise when he got this bad.

It was best to stay away from him in those moments.

Unfortunately, when he came back to properly put his guitar and equipment away, Nace was there. Jan really, really wasn't in the mood to be polite.

"What the fuck are you still doing here?"

To Nace's credit, he barely flinched at his harsh tone. He eyed him carefully and held up his hands.

"You seemed unwell, I...I just wanted to see if I can help in any way. You probably shouldn't drive."

Jan's laugh was sharp and humorless. Help in any way? He could have helped by fucking leaving.

"No. You can't help. And fuck you, I can drive."

He tried to push past him, but Nace grabbed his shoulder. Jan felt a tingle go up his spine, so he did the only thing he could think of in that moment.

He pushed back, hard enough to fully pin Nace against the wall. Their faces were few inches away. Jan could see emotions flashing over Nace's face. Surprise, shock, fear, anger. Then finally settling on a calm, patient mask he always wore.

Jan seethed.

"What the fuck," he hissed, "do you think you are doing?"

Nace calmly met his gaze. Something about his perfect calm made Jan want to punch him. Rip him apart until he got something than that perfect niceness and calmness.

"I told you. I want to help you. Let me help you.”

Jan didn't have enough brain power to unpack that statement. Why would he want to help him at all, after the past several weeks? What even made him think Jan wanted him to help?

Nace’s eyes briefly flickered from his eyes to his lips and then back. Finally, things clicked for Jan. Nace wasn’t trying to help him. He wanted to fuck him.

He stared at Nace blankly for a second, considering his options. In truth, he didn't want to go home in another futile attempt to sleep.

And as much as knew this was a bad idea...he didn't see a good enough reason to resist. Nace wasn't going to find out about the soulmark and Jan wasn't going to give him any fake hopes this would be anything but a one night stand.

He stepped forward and grabbed Nace by his lapels, pinning him hard to the wall. Nace's lips began to form a question, but Jan kissed him before he could utter it.

He kissed him hard enough to bruise. Enough to hurt. And yet Nace groaned into his mouth and kissed him back. That dispelled any worries Jan might have had about reading the situation wrong.

Nace gripped Jan's shoulders and pulled him closer. The kiss was electric. Jan kept kissing him like he was trying to devour him.

His anger and aggression shifted and changed into lust so quickly, like a predator sinking it’s teeth into the prey. This was one time he'd allow himself to have this. The closest he'd ever allow himself to feel that soulmate pull, so he might as well make the most of it.

Nace opened so nicely for him. Let him rearrange him as he pleased, only slightly pushing away to catch his breath.

His pupils were blown wide, almost swallowing the brown of his irises. Jan began kissing down his jaw, to his neck and Nace shivered.

"Jan-wait, what are we do-"

"Fucking, preferably. Unless you changed your mind?"

He briefly pulled back, watching Nace's reaction carefully. Despite his manhandling, there was a line he wouldn't cross. Nace shook his head.

"No. No, I didn't change my mind but maybe we could just, um. Move this somewhere else?"

He supposed that was a good point. They didn't have a couch in the studio for no reason. He tugged Nace to it wordlessly, and tried not to trip over all the cables that were all over the floor.

Jan wasn't sure how they both manage to fit on the couch, more or less horizontally. All he knew was that he found himself on top of Nace, with his hands underneath the older’s shirt and his knee in between Nace’s legs. When he tried to pullhis shirt off, though, Nace grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“No?”

“No,” Nace said and pulled him down for another kiss. Which was an end to that conversation.

Jan wasn’t deterred, though. He stroked Nace’s chest by pulling his hands underneath his shirt. The way Nace moaned his name at that made something hot and possessive curl around Jan's chest. He traced his lips and teeth down his throat, wanting to hear him make that sound over and over again.

His hand slipped under Nace's waistband and the groan Nace made when he touched him echoed through Jan. Fuck, he was so hot. The older man practically trembled under his touch and Jan felt powerful.

Powerful like a God. What was a soulmate pull in comparison to the power he held over Nace now? He was unaware of it and yet he went with this so willingly. Despite all of Jan’s rudeness and hostility, Nace still wanted him, still gave in like this to him.

Jan felt drunk with power, with knowledge of this. He bit at the junction between Nace’s neck and shoulder. Nace’s entire body shuddered.

“Fuck, Jan, please…”

As much as Jan wanted to take him apart and do much more than this, he wasn't exactly carrying condoms and lube in his pockets. Perhaps they should make merch condoms for these situations.

Which left him with limited options. But judging by Nace expression, it wouldn't take much to take him over the edge.

"Look at me," Jan said.

His voice came out much rougher than he expected. Nace immediately opened his eyes and Jan felt like he was soaring through the depths in his eyes. Like a God, deciding mortal’s fate. He sped up movements of his hand and that pulled another broken moan from the man under him. Jan didn’t look away for a moment and soon Nace’s expression scrunched up in pleasure and he came, going boneless in Jan’s grasp.

Jan took the opportunity to just stare at him for a few moments longer while he was still allowed. The way Nace's face was both flustered and relaxed. His lips were bruised and Jan wondered if his own were just as bad.

He did not think about any words like beautiful, or holy. That would give him way too much power.

He reached for the napkins to wipe off his hand and Nace, as much as he could. Nace choose that moment to come down from his high. He stared back at Jan and there was an odd sort of tension between them. Jan should probably say something, but before he could, Nace got an oddly determined look to his eyes. He reached out to grasp Jan’s waist and flipped them over.

It was Jan's turn to be blindsided. He knew Nace was strong in theory, but in practice, it was terrifying to be manhandled like that. He immediately pushed back, but to no avail.

"What are you-"

"You didn't come. So I am fixing that."

Jan wanted to protest and say it was alright, but Nace kissed him before he could. He stroked Jan over his pants and-fuck, okay maybe he shouldn't have concentrated solely on Nace. Because now, he was left with Nace's full attention on him.

The sense of power got flipped, too and Jan found himself powerless all of a sudden. Nace held the power that was his only moments ago and Jan wasn’t sure how to regain it.

He couldn't quite hold back a moan when Nace pulls his pants and underwear down and began stroking him. All Jan could do was pull away from the kiss and bite his lip so hard he tasted blood. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected him.

This was why he preferred picking up people he didn't know for one night stands and fucking them in a way that they'd barely get to touch him.

He hated this. He hated the way Nace gently kissed his neck and touched him in a way Jan had no control over.

Not that it didn't feel good, but Jan felt his thoughts spiraling. Every sound that got ripped out of him spoke of vulnerability he didn't want to give anyone, let alone Nace. In that moment he hated him more than he hated anyone. For taking away his power once again. For expecting Jan to like it.

He was so tangled in his conflicting thoughts pleasure caught up with him unexpectedly and he finally came with a gasp, burying his face in the couch cushion. He did his best to get his breathing under control and to fight against how his body felt like lead all of a sudden.

For once, he thought he was winning, but of course Nace had to go and take that too. He just kept taking and taking until there was nothing left that was only Jan’s. Not music, not his friends, not even control.

Nace took the napkin to clean him up, but Jan snatched it from him and did it himself. He wouldn’t give him a second more of his vulnerability. Jan hated him so fiercely he wanted to hit him in that moment. Instead, he began putting his clothes back on.

He grabbed his shirt at the same time Nace grabbed his elbow. Jan turned to give him his best glare. Nace, for all his shyness, didn't drop his gaze.

"Seriously? We just had sex and-"

"It's just sex, Jordan, calm down. And it won't happen again, I can promise you that."

Nace's face fell. Jan simply stared at him coldly. He felt no sympathy, no anything. He wouldn’t let him win this, too. He deserved to feel used.

He put his shirt on and only when he began lacing up his boots did Nace speak again.

"I hope you feel better now, at least.”

His tone was cutting, completely different to his usual tone. Jan did his best not to flinch. He did not look back at him as he answer.

“Yeah. It was fine. Whatever.”

Then he turned and left. He got all the way to the car and then simply sat inside, staring at nothing. He felt nothing. He forced himself to start the engine and drive home before his thoughts could catch up to him.

He made it to his apartment, but as soon as he closed the door behind him, he slid down to the floor. His mark burned. And he felt like his chest was caving in all of a sudden. Like he couldn't breathe in enough air.

It didn’t make any sense. Why was this happening? He hated him. So why was he feeling like this.

Didn’t I tell you could never feel complete without your soulmate? His father’s voice mocked, You will never be free.

Jan barely made it to the bathroom before he threw up. His ears were ringing, and he could swear he heard church bells in the distance. Was it a hallucination or did he never notice he could hear them from his apartment before?

He unconsciously reached for the necklace and only grasped air. It took him a moment to realize his mistake. He hadn’t been wearing a cross for years now. Why would he?

Was this what it felt like to be cursed? Perhaps it wasn’t Kris who was cursed but him. Was it for rejecting his soulmate or for not rejecting him? Tears of frustration built and then spilled down his cheeks.

He felt lost. Stranded. Like he was left in complete darkness with no light to guide him.

He heard a distant meow, and Igor came trotting to the bathroom. He brushed against Jan’s leg and Jan shakily scratched behind his ear. Igor looked at him for a moment before curling next to him. His small, warm body gave him a bit of comfort.

Enough to drag him out of utter despair.

There was no God that he believed in that could help him. But one thing Jan still had was a brother. He reached for his phone and press call.

“Hello?”

His brother’s voice sounded hesitant. They were in contact, but they still didn’t talk often. They certainly didn’t do random phone calls unless it was an emergency. Jan supposed this technically way one.

“Matej. I need your help. Do you remember how you told me about your friend who got rid of her soulmark and how it essentially broke the connection she had with her ex?”

There was a deep breath on the other side of the line. A pause, and then-

“Yes. But you do know you can only use that as a last resort.”

“I do. And I need you to tell me where she got it done.”

Another pause.

“I’ll ask her. But Jan…please think this through. You can’t undo this once it’s done.”

He couldn’t undo walking out of his parents’ house and choosing a life for himself. He won’t let Nace Jordan ruin it for him.

“I know. Text me when you have the contact.”

He hung up before Matej could say anything else. Could try to reason with him. Jan made a decision. His soulmark burned and he felt worse than he did in years.

It was all Nace’s fault. Jan would not let him ruin his life on account of destiny, or God or whatever it was that tied them together.

So Jan would end it before it even began.

[cosmica-galaxy]

Heya, I hope I'm not too late but is it ok if you write for Chopper Dave in the papa!grunts au? It's alright if you don't wanna do it ⊂⁠(⁠・⁠﹏⁠・⁠⊂⁠)

YESSS!! CHOPPER DAVE!!!! +Player has fem parts but is gender neutral +Set in Salty’s AU Tw: Pregnancy and non-descriptive birth mention, but choppy babe is there for you Q3Q – How you both got into a relationship was actually really sweet… It was your first mission when you and V2 were starting to set up your operation for SQ. You were assigned to save someone from being captured so that you and V2 could fly to your destinations that held your future missions. Upon beating the absolute shit out of his captive, you pretty much carried the target, which you learned was Chopper Dave, out of danger as V2 dispatched the stragglers. To say that Chopper Dave fell hard for you after his rescue was an understatement. He was very shy and tended to stumble over his words when you came around and the more your operation grew in power, the more he made it obvious that he had feelings for you. You could even hear how he would be teased by his comrades for having such an obvious crush on the local god-like celebrity. To which he would shush them when you would “obviously” walk into the cafeteria and say hello to the crew as the poor pilot tried to keep it together. He would even try to ‘appear cool’ when you were around. Like he would lean on something before accidentally falling over and making a fool of himself, much to his companions' roaring laughter and your sympathetic gaze. Pretty soon, you eventually began to feel the same as Dave finally got the courage to ask you out one day and you decided to accept to see where it went. The rest of the SQ crew were quickly surprised the moment he walked into the cafeteria holding your hand and flipping them all the bird as he laughed triumphantly. You both started dating for a while and every time Dave would try to be as romantic and polite as possible. Maybe it was because he was British, but you never mind his constant polite mannerisms and the light jokes about him crashing the helicopter because he’s too focused on your beauty. You were a sucker for compliments and cheesiness…and Chopper Dave was filled with them. You couldn’t imagine being with anyone else after that. He was just…simply too charming. Soon, you two became an official thing and when you were both alone…you took the opportunity to “take him somewhere” for a “private mission”. To which Dave was eager to go on that “mission” every time he could. Which leads to this conundrum that you now both face. One morning, Dave found you absolutely making yourself sick in the bathroom and you made comments about feeling horrible. He panicked and rushed you to Skinner as soon as he could that day for a check up on your health. After numerous nerve-wrecking tests, Skinner appears before the couple and happily clapped his hands together in joy. “Well! This is surprising! But none-the-less…congratulations, Player! You’re Pregnant~!” The doctor announces happily, oblivious to the shocked expression that painted both of your faces. Dave could barely believe it. He was going to be a dad! The pilot pretty much performs a jig in place as he grows giddy from the news and then he gives the Player a hug from the overwhelming joy he was feeling as Skinner merely laughs in response. So not only did he find the love of his life, he was gonna get a little one too! During the first trimester, the both of you began to put together plans for a new room that you both would call your own and where you both would decide on adding an additional room for your little one. While you adored V2 a lot, now that you were together with Dave, and now starting a family together, you decided that it would be best for you and Dave to move in together and share a room instead. Which V2 didn’t mind much, it gave them much more room now that you were technically “moving out” from your shared living space in favor of being with your lover. So that was what you both started with the renovations. Dave typically stayed in the barracks with the others, but you felt that it was better to just build  a new wing for you and him to live in, as well as a new addition for your little one. Upon mentioning the expansion, both Q-Bert and Bossman were at your service immediately, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Of course those two smelt an easy opportunity for cash and you snicker in response. One benefit from being near-godlike is that you can manifest money however you see fit. So, with some spawned in stacks of cash, you paid both Q-Bert and Bossman to start the expansion project. You even teased that if they found some high quality items for your room and built it to your liking they would be getting MASSIVE bonuses. You and Dave merely chuckle as both the two raced off to get your request started as soon as possible. Once you were reaching your midterms, the new expansion was nearly complete and both Q-Bert and Bossman were pretty much in a heated competition with one another for the prize you set out for the both of them. But you and Dave barely focused on that. You two were simply now getting ready to decorate the new addition to your base, with Dave already eagerly and enthusiastically hanging paintings of things he likes. Like helicopters, planes, still art, and tea advertisements that he framed. You nuzzle your lover affectionately as you also assist in getting the furniture picked out and the child room decorated. You stitch some little blankets and outfits into existence by using your strings. Each one glowing with bluish hues and glittering colors as you continue with the furnishings. Finding decent furnishing was particularly challenging, as Chopper Dave was much more skilled as a mechanic than a carpenter. But Bossman and Q-Bert were happy to supply you with such items…for a price. To which you couldn’t help but roll your eyes once more in response. Still, you needed supplies and if they could take the headache away on where to get them, you would gladly pay them for the items. You even made certain requests for paints, toys, and age appropriate books if they could find any. Offering them more money if they managed to get some. So, while your little workers were going around and running your errands, you spent as much time as you could getting your new rooms decorated and your ideas in order. By the time everything was finally finished, cleaned up, painted, stitched, decorated, and furnished, you were entering the last leg of your pregnancy. Dave was growing more excited by the day as you merely laughed a bit as he snuggled against your belly and commented about how the “little bird” was growing more lively by the day. You couldn’t help but kiss your dorky little Brit lovingly as he rambled on and on about what he was going to do when they arrived. You figured he would be much more stressed out over becoming a new father, but Dave seemed to be surprisingly taking it in stride. Merely talking to his curious comrades about what he was going to do and projecting on what his little one would look like. “Who do you think they’ll look like? Me or them?” to which a lot of the crew would take their bets on what the kid would look like. You can only blush and adore your lover’s enthusiasm for becoming a new father. Then, the day finally arrived. You two were cuddled up in your shared bed when you found yourself waking up in pain and with a growing wetness in the bed. You shake your lover awake, who hilariously mutters out “5 more minutes mumsy…” before you get even rougher with your shaking. “Davey! Davey!! Wake up! The baby is coming!” You whimper out. Dave takes a moment to process what you said before he suddenly dives out of the bed, taking the blankets with him as he flails about trying to get the delivery bag you both prepared for this occasion out from under the bed. “OH BUGGER, YOU’RE SERIOUS!? We gotta get you to the medbay as quick as a wink then, love!!” Dave yells out, fighting off the tangle of blankets as you carefully get out of bed. Once the struggle is over, Dave picks you up bridal style and begins to carry you down to the medbay. Taking the elevator that you both put in for quick travel around the base, you both arrived in the medbay in no time at all. Skinner was still down there, seemingly treating some patients before turning towards the door after Dave called out to him. Skinner is quick to take notice of your heavy breathing and Dave’s worried expression that he swaps places with a medbay worker to take the much more important case. Skinner rolls over a gurney and Dave sets you down on it. In no time at all, you’re rolled over to the emergency section of the large medical wing and Dave remains with you the whole way. Even when Skinner was getting himself ready to help deliver the new demi-god into the world. The long and painful process was draining on both you and Dave, especially Dave’s hand–which was probably crushed from the strength that your grip had on it. Skinner worked in tandem with some medics to help you give birth as he worked carefully and gently. Then, with a final push, the young one was brought into the world. You fall back against the cot, panting and sweating from the delivery process as Dave looks on in anticipation as Skinner cleans and prepares the young one. Finally, the little one is wrapped up in a white blanket and is handed off to Dave, who accepts them with no hesitation. You lay there smiling as Skinner ushers the other medics off and draws the curtains closed so that you two may have a private moment together while Skinner checks on his other patients. You slowly look over towards Dave, seeing his cross turned upward in joy as he holds the little bundle in his arms. His hand then moves, grabbing a part of the blanket before pulling it back. Revealing the youthful little face underneath. A chubby little sparkling gray face greets him as the little one stretches and lets out a long toothless yawn in response to their father rubbing their cheek with his pointer finger. Finally, their eyes open and two large pupils with multiple colors swirling about in them gaze at their father curiously. Then, the little one makes a couple of high-pitched squeals of joy as they wiggle about in their swaddle, demonstrating nothing short of being a healthy and jolly baby. “There you are, little bird. Welcome to Nevada, I’m your old man…” Dave could be heard chuckling as he wiggled his fingers in front of the little one, enticing another happy trill to come from the baby. Then he points to you. “Do you know who that is, little bird? They’re your mum! Say hello to mumsy~!” Dave playfully says, the little one looking over to you and blowing a little bubble from their mouth as you couldn’t help but laugh from where you lay. Dave stands up and brings you both in close to one another. In which your lover nuzzles your head under his as the little one’s hands explore your face. “You did such a good job, love…they’re so beautiful…I love you.” “And I love you too, sweetie.” You both purr and kiss one another, surprisingly making the little one make a sound similar to ‘bleh’ in response. Enticing a new bout of laughter to come from you both. Both of you couldn’t be any happier that you were now a family.

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Reunion, pt. 1 (Reunion and Loss)

(A/N: This came about while I was listening to Eldest at work because fuck yeah work-encouraged headphones! I had written a reunion for Glenwing and Arya in MIC years ago, and now it just didn’t feel right. So this happened.

It’s been almost a year since I really wrote anything for MIC that I found presentable and that I wrote so…voraciously? Iunno. I think in the interim my writing style may have changed. We’ll see how y’all like it. Everyone is a bit…softer? There’s definitely more crying than anyone has done in MIC before.

Before we start, I also need to make a distinct warning. I’ve given more description of wounds this time. Not like…oozy stuff really. But MIC is about the war and its effects, physical and mental, on people. Glenwing had some pretty bad injuries in the ambush, and I wanted to highlight that he’s got his own demons and trauma from the experience. I’ve introduced the concept of ‘recall’ for elves, which was touched on in ‘Collateral’ but never fleshed out till now. Make your decision to read with that in mind. There’s more of it in the next part, but Glenwing’s moments are fairly rough in my opinion. 

The other half will be out when I figure out how to end it better than I did last night. Oh, and I can’t remember, but there might be more little hints and bits in this part that connect or refer to events seen or mentioned in other stories. Woo! Scavenger hunt! Cheers everyone, and welcome back to MIC!)

REUNION

The bustle of activity and near constant rush of people passed by in a blur. Arya let the crowd flow around her, sinking away from the main crush. She settled a few paces behind her mother where the Queen was conversing with Däthedr, silent and watchful as she always had been in these situations. 

She was glad that Saphira and Eragon took most, if not all, the attention away from her. After that whirlwind of political and personal business, Arya didn’t feel much like talking to anyone. Such situations always put her on edge, and after so long away the combat liaison was finding it increasingly difficult to hold her tongue and remain the polite and proper diplomat she pretended to be in the pines.

So instead of mingling, Arya settled into an ingrained At Ease stance and began watching the gathered elves. Well, not so much the elves. Brom was her main target. The man had been all but forgotten in the rush, just as he had planned, and he sat at a table nursing a tankard of faelnirv. Yes, an entire tankard. To himself. Because that would end well. As the hour went on Arya contemplated asking her mentor for his shortsword and rifle. There’d be hell to pay if Oromis had to come down early to corral his former student yet again.  

Oromis. Arya suppressed a wince; facing him was just as daunting as facing her mother. He wouldn’t have left the world unwatched while the queen wallowed in her self pity. He and Glaedr had to have know about Eragon, Saphira, Brom. Their madcap running around the Empire. Farthen Dûr.

And he would know about Arya. And Gil’ead. She hoped he hadn’t seen too much of that. 

For a split second Arya smelled wet concrete and tasted copper and iron. The lilting music and bubbly voices smothered down to a low drone, a buzz that dug into her ear as the suddenly harsh light flickered. 

Behind her back she felt her hands involuntarily snap into white knuckled fists, nails digging deep into her palms. Her wrists burned, fingers tingling with sharp pins and needles as the wet fire encircled the ruined skin and rusted steel bit in deep–

It took a breath, a blink. A shaking thumb subtly run over the dark swathe of scar tissue under the cuff of her combat jacket sleeve. Feeling the half rumpled and half silky repairs to her body. 

The world snapped back into focus in time for Arya to mumble a returned greeting as another elf brushed past. She bit her tongue for real this time. ‘Damn recall.’

The night dragged on, and while the rest of Ellesméra whirled and danced Arya could not help but feel rooted in place, stationary in both time and movement. It felt…wrong. She was no stranger to solitude, that was certain, but for some reason standing there, alone despite the sea of people, felt off. 

The hollow feeling in her chest intensified. Ellesméra felt leagues larger without them there.

Her bitter musings were interrupted by a violent yank on her arm. 

Everything in her body snapped taut as Arya whirled, letting the attacker’s motion turn her as she brought up both fists. The momentum carried her raising arm up to lock against the inner elbow of the man that was now grabbing at her shoulders, ready to throw him off and slam him in the jaw with her free palm. He had both shoulders now, fingers tightening, one hand impossibly hard and cold–

Golden eyes caught her movements, freezing her in place. The entire world dropped away.

Arya couldn’t breathe. The dead man held her at arms length, his brow furrowed and silver hair still settling around his face from where it had escaped his ponytail. His eyes, they had always seen past whatever she said and found what she meant to say, searched her face with the intensity of a hunting dragon. 

He had looked at her like that before, though not quite so intently. Every time she did something so remarkably stupid, like throw an artillery shell back over the trench wall, curl around a grenade to absorb its destruction into her wards, stuck her hand in a Broddring cannon, or, the worst offense of all, go without sleep in favor of double watch shifts and nights disappeared without a word beside their other companion. Always looking out for her. For them. 

The last time she had seen his face it was planted in the dirt, blood pooling and trickling towards open golden eyes as they stared unseeing into the darkness, before the swarm of Urgals had blocked her view.

And now he was looking at her, bright, alert, and with so much fear and disbelief and hope and who the hell knows what else because Glenwing of House Svanran, healer and medic and best friend and dead man walking, was holding her by the shoulders and trying just as desperately as she to figure out if the person in front of him was really, truly alive. 

“...Glen?” Arya half choked, the last air in her lungs used to voice her disbelief. She could barely hear it over the noise around them.

At her uttering of his name Glenwing suddenly seized her face in his hands and let out a cracked laugh. Tears spilled from his eyes as he half cried, half laughed, “Spirits, it is you!” 

And his arms were pulling her in and around her and hugging impossibly tight. 

Arya didn’t hesitate, hugging him back fiercely and holding on, unwilling to let go in case he too slipped away like the other memories. Something snapped inside her chest and in her throat as she let out a broken laugh of her own. “You’re alive! You’re alive!” 

They stayed like that for what felt like ages, relief flowing off of them like a waterfall with tears of joy and disbelief. They weren’t alone anymore. 

It must have been a full minute before the world around them became important again, and Arya reluctantly pulled back. “We should,” She broke off and wiped her eyes, cleared her throat before speaking again without the tremor in her voice. “We should probably go….” 

“Good call.” 

With a small gesture Arya caught her mother’s eye. When the queen inclined her head slightly the two reunited elves snapped their heels together and bowed, knocking their right knuckles to their left collarbones in acknowledgement before all but bolting to the edge of the crowded grove. Here, at least, it was quiet but for a low murmur of the gathered people and a soft thread of music through the trees. No one would be looking out to the forest, not with something as amazing as Eragon and Saphira at the center of attention. Here Arya and Glenwing would have a modicum of privacy to talk.

It was Arya’s turn to take Glen by the shoulders, and she shook her head with another chuckle past the lump in her throat. “You fucking bastard.” They shared a laugh again. “You absolute bastard. I saw you die. And I never thought….”

“You’re complaining about me?” Glenwing beamed, wiping away tears with his right hand. “All those times I told you not to go running off and get yourself killed, and then I figure that you’ve gone and finally done it.” 

“Hey, I was doing my job!”

“You always say that.” 

“I actually was this time!”

After a few moments of excited chatter, Arya felt cold seeping back into the warm relief that seeing Glenwing had brought. Already knowing the answer, she looked out to the dark pines that hid from the celebration’s light. The pommel of the sword at her hip bit into her palm, a small comfort for what she knew was about to come. “Hey, I uh…” She blinked, cleared her throat as best she could past the returning lump. “I take it…you’re my only surprise tonight, huh?” When Glen shifted uneasily, Arya felt a pang of regret at her phrasing and shot him a wan grin. “Not that you’re underappreciated or any–”

Glenwing’s jaw tightened, and for a moment Arya saw his throat convulse as he swallowed. His voice was steady, though, when he gently, grimly, replied, “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. Didn’t say anything for a long, painful minute. “I couldn’t have ever asked for either of you to survive that. Couldn’t even think, imagine, hope, whatever.” Arya waved a hand vaguely, unable to put her feelings into words. “But, shit, Glen. We’ve done so much dangerous, wild–”

“Insane?” That grin was back, tinged with sadness but filled with a familiar wild undertone that everyone in their little fyrn breoal held. 

“Insane!” Arya added with a laugh. “Everything we’ve done and everything we shouldn’t have survived…. I’m just happy you made it out. That we made it out. And look! We did it, we found them!” She pointed towards Saphira’s glittering form in the midst of the crowd that felt so far away. “Let’s just…let’s celebrate that right now. Celebrate him. Shit, can you imagine the ruckus he’d make? We did it! We finally did it.” She couldn’t hide the tangle of elation and relief that broke through the pain. This is what they had all been fighting for, together, for decades. Fäolin would want them to have that, to feel the joy for him.

A commotion drew their attention. Elves were returning from the cookfires, arms laden with dishes and bowls and platters. The sight made both the medic and the combat liaison stiffen somewhat, knowing that their brief time to reacquaint themselves was drawing to a quick end. 

Arya let out a short huff and drew herself up, steeling herself for the rabble again. “Alright. Come on.” Glen grinned when she slapped his arm and seized his face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks. “Have to make sure you’re not some hallucination. Let’s go drink. We’re here. We’re safe.” She slid her hands to his shoulders, began drawing them down his arms in preparation to drag him off to meet the biggest pair of silver linings in history. “We’re in one…”

She trailed off as her right hand slipped down his left arm and stopped short at the bicep. That…that wasn’t….

“Piece?” Words stuck in her throat at the sound of the wry tone in Glen’s voice. He thought he was hiding the ache under that twisted tilt of his lips as her eyes snapped up to his. “Yeah…about that.”

“...Glen, what–”

“Later. I promise.” Without waiting for her protests, Glen slid an arm around his lost commander's shoulders and began walking back to the tables. "Celebrate, right? Introduce me to these two first. Then we drink."

~~~

LOSS

The door creaked as it slid open, sticking at that same spot as it always had. Arya purposefully kept her eyes down as she closed it, avoiding looking towards her mother where she stood still half stunned outside. Just as she had told the queen, she really wasn’t ready to forgive her, not now. If she met her mother’s gaze there was bound to be a war between exploding at her in buried rage or breaking down after the many emotional hills and valleys of the day.

She made it two steps into the flat, pack already sliding off her arms, when she froze. 

Glen blinked at her from where he was lounging on the couch, just as surprised as she was. 

They stared at each other for a long moment. 

“I uh…” Arya tilted her head slightly. “Wow. Um. I forgot you were alive. And that you’d probably be here.”

The medic blinked again, bewildered, and burst out laughing. “You what?!” 

“It’s been a really, really long day!” Arya threw her pack at him, ignoring the yelp of protest, and dropped onto the opposite end of the couch. 

Glen moved the bag to the floor as his lost commander disentangled herself from her rifle strap, feeling her eyes on him as he leaned back. He wouldn’t admit it, but he had forgotten that she likely would come back to the flat instead of her long disused room at Tialdarí Hall. He was drained from the night of food and music and emotion, and had trudged home and changed into sleep clothes as soon as he entered, completely oblivious to the possibility of intrusion. 

The loose tanktop, standard issue to Varden soldiers in warm climates, left the metal of his bionic prosthetic on full display, the plating glinting dully in the low werelight. 

They sat in silence for what had to be half an hour, recuperating. Glen made no move to cover the evidence of his missing limb. A niggling feeling in the back of his mind urged him to do so, whispering that she didn’t need guilt on top of everything else. He shushed it, reminded it that he knew that she wasn’t the reason he was down an arm. 

‘But does she know that?’

“...What happened?” Glen rolled his head to look over at Arya, her voice quiet and softer than he remembered she could be. He had tried to lock in the memories of them all together during happy times, wild times, not the times where they had to quietly ask each other if they could keep fighting. “I didn’t…didn’t see where you got hit. I thought it was the chest.”

Glenwing lifted his left arm, the servos drawing power from the precious gems embedded on the insides of the plates whirring almost imperceptibly in the silence. He turned the wrist, tilted the forearm, bent the elbow. Stared at it. “Almost. One went through the bone just above my elbow. Another one got me in the hip.” With two fingers he tapped where the second bullet had entered. “Balan threw me when he got hit and I got knocked out.” 

He inhaled through his nose and bit back a sigh. He could smell pinesmoke again, pungent and heavy. “I think…everything was over when I came around the first time. There was fire but the Urgals were gone. I was cognizant enough to realize I was bleeding out and used the bloodstopper spell to tie off the artery and veins in my arm but…” The fingers made a pleasing series of clicks as he curled them into a fist. “I passed out again. And it was a good bit before I was aware of anything after that.” 

The elves in Vandral, the closest outpost to the edge of Du Weldenvarden where the ambush had occurred, had filled him in as best they could. How they found him half crawling, half dragging himself along the forest floor on their morning patrol. Fäolin’s cold body tied to his own by belts looped across his chest and secured under the dead elf’s arms. The remains of his left arm at and below his now pulverized, shredded elbow hanging on by mutilated muscle. The unmoving fingers white and purple and dusky from lack of blood. The burns on his chest, forearms, knees, thighs, from dragging himself and his long dead brother-in-war and remaining best friend through ashes and embers during the night.

The way he begged them to save Fäolin. Begged them to find her. 

Waking up, his burns healed. His arm–

Pain at his metal wrist ricocheted up to his shoulder. Brought him back.

Glenwing forced the metallic fingers open. “I…I tried to save him.” He dropped both hands to rest limp in his lap, Rhunön’s masterpiece relaying his movements perfectly through metal and crystal. “He was gone before he even hit the ground.”

“I know.” When he looked over Arya was staring past him. “I saw it.” After a moment her eyes cleared, and locked back on him. “Your arm….”

“Bloodstopper worked a little too well, I’m afraid.” He forced a smile. He could still smell the burning pines, but it was fading. Instead it was slowly being replaced by the familiar scent of the worn leather additions on Arya’s combat jacket, gun oil, sharp pine sap and an undertone of gunpowder. It smelled like home, like the Varden, like Arya and Fäolin and decades of companionship and friends. It smelled like safety in their little group. “Rhunön built this for me, though. It works better than the old one!”

Arya shook her head, a touch of a grin on her lips. “I’m sure. She’s outdone herself.” 

“How about you?” Glen didn’t have to know her for over five decades to notice the way Arya changed at the question. Her arms pulled in, the rifle settled across her lap. “What happened to land you with Eragon, Saphira, and Brom of all people?”

Instead of answering him Arya yawned. That was real, he wouldn’t deny that, but she was all too eager to postpone whatever answers she had. “Tell you what,” She stretched and rubbed the back of her neck, massaging a kink out of the muscle that connected to her shoulder. “That’s a story for later. Right now I’m about to pass out on this couch if I don’t get to sleep for a few hours.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Glen’s voice was lighthearted, but they both could hear the warning under the words. It was clear as day, a promise made decades ago. Don’t hide wounds from your fyrn breoal. Head, heart or body, commander, medic or sniper, the only way to stay alive and keep the others safe was to share. “I’m sure it’s a hell of a story.”

Arya waved at him over her shoulder, already halfway down the hall to the room she had shared with her mate. “Yeah. It’s a real doozy. Goodnight, Glen. You still alive bastard.”

“Goodnight, Arya. Resurrected prodigal wild child.”

She blew a raspberry at him as she closed the door.

Glenwing sat back on the couch, the grin fading. His eyes fell on her discarded pack, stripped of weapons and bedroll, sitting at his feet.

The lock on the strap still accepted his thumbprint. It took only a few moments to find what he sought, buried under a mess kit and a pair of socks stuffed in a worn knit beanie she had acquired nearly twenty years ago from a Surdan merchant. A thick file, stuffed with pictures haphazardly sticking out at odd angles, sticky notes and scratched out shorthand. A scattering of numbers and letters, followed by a bold ‘6’ indicated it was the sixth such file in the series, a collection of war wounds and physical exams and the occasional psych eval that never really counted due to the elvish mind being alien enough to circumvent any human or dwarf made test.

Glen pulled it out and brushed his fingers along the tabs till he found one marked a little over two months ago. He didn’t open it, just let his fingertips linger as he mulled over revealing the contents. 

No. 

She would tell him. 

He left the file on the coffee table. 

~~~~~~

(Post A/N: If there is anyone who saw things wrong with my representation of amputation and amputees, please message me. I tried to do thorough research, but I am not an amputee myself and don’t have the real life experience to know if I’m portraying it properly. I did my best to be respectful and as real as the setting allowed. I’m always up for learning and having my misconceptions corrected, and I’m continuing my research to make sure I’m giving it the proper respect and sensitivity.)

[linesofink]

Buckle up yall, I'm going on a rant about how I think Junko got power over each Remnant of Despair (ignoring the canon brainwashing because I hate it, it makes no sense). Warnings for death mentions, different levels of manipulation, and trauma being used against people.

Y'all ready? Okay.

Imposter was a tiny bit difficult, but nothing Junko was unable to control. They probably felt empty and wanted a chance to exist without impersonating someone, so Junko likely just made a promise and used a little bit of sweet talk to trick them into believing that her plans would let them just exist and be able to do what they want. The despair of knowing that you basically don't exist would break them eventually.

Teruteru, simple leverage and threatening, probably blackmail too. Junko likely has ways to look into everyone's pasts and relationships, so she probably dangled the life and prosperity of his mother and the family diner over his head as a way to force him into things. It probably escalated at some point, and ended up just outright becoming what he wanted to do himself. If you put enough pressure on something, it will break eventually.

Mahiru took a little effort maybe, but Satō's death and the guilt of having a bit of involvement in Natsumi's death weighs down on her and thus Junko was able to make her believe it really was all her fault which in turn drove her into despair.

Peko was simple, all she had to do was get Fuyuhiko on their side and Peko would follow. Junko would've probably just killed Fuyuhiko too if he wasn't useful to her, so maybe Junko threatened his life which made Peko desperate to do anything to ensure his safety. Her entire existence revolved around his, and if something happened to her, she would be useless. The thought made her frantic and plung into despair due to that.

Ibuki wasn't difficult due to her IQ. Ibuki wasn't the brightest, but she was useful in some aspects. Junko probably went with either tricking her, or using popularity and relevance as leverage aswell, maybe even using other classmates again. Ibuki got a little anxious, and it spiraled over a long period of it into a state of despair at the constant worry.

Hiyoko took some time, but her own past was in play and used against her. Junko likely promised she'd be able to see the people she loved again and that the pressure from popularity would stop. Hiyoko likely fell apart when she realized she wasn't going to see her only loved ones again, and like the rest broke and fell into despair.

Mikan was one of the easier targets. Her issues with her past and her constant anxiety made it easy to get her to attach to Junko. Mikan was so used to being mistreated that just a slight bit of positive affection or even just a bit of praise got her to follow Junko around and cling to her, she's traumatized and unstable and was easy to control. Even the slightest bit of negativity from Junko after that would cause her to spiral towards despair and make her desperate for the rare positivity.

Nekomaru took effort, but once again it was likely the childhood. Since he was bullied for his name (at least if I recall correctly) she likely used that as a "Don't you want revenge?" tactic. Maybe she used his heart condition too, "you'll only live a certain amount of time, use it for what's really important." He reflected and realized he was doomed to die and his childhood was nothing but pain, so he tripped and smacked into the floor of despair.

Gundham was simple; his loved ones and his childhood made it easy. She could've easily used the Devas against him or even his mother, and probably made comments about his father and the people around him growing up. The Devas were dear to him, so she likely used an anger and desperation tactic and made him feel despair out of worry for them.

Nagito was both easy and difficult. He was so dead set on the fact that Hope was always triumphant, it took a bit more. She probably made him reflect a lot on his childhood, the treatment he faced daily, probably berated him then gave him rare praise, took time to slowly ease him away from his Hope mindset and into Despair. He was a process, but he eventually submerged to Despair when he finally gave up and thought, "What's the point in continuing on if my luck and presence will only torment everyone?"

Akane was yet another game of Childhood Trauma as a weapon. The childhood she faced was rough and she was still not stable from it, Junko probably exposed her to things that reminded her vaguely of her childhood that got progressively more dark as it went on. Junko used the fact that Akane would jump and snap into action as reflex, and she trained her like an animal to pounce at things. Akane slowly drowned in her thoughts of her life and it turned to a despair-ridden rage.

Kazuichi was merely another childhood and peers case. "You'll never be loved by anyone," she said, "You'll never be loved romantically, and probably never were in a platonic or even familial way." She would repeat. She'd break him slowly by using everyone else and probably claimed to be the only one who cared. Kazuichi is highly emotional, and he fell into despair rather easily since he -like most teenage boys- probably cared a lot about how people viewed him.

Fuyuhiko was easy. "You were raised to kill and hurt others mercilessly, do the one thing you're good at." She told him. Natsumi's death, the pressure of his life, whatever traumas he experienced as a kid. They all added up. He knew what he was capable of, and he probably subconsciously wanted to act on it. Put too many things onto one thing and it'll eventually topple over onto that one thing, he was crushed by the weights on his shoulders till it made him drop to one knee in the face of despair herself.

Sonia was quite literally "Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you wanna just go apeshit?" Her life was dictated by her social standing. Taught from birth to be one way, ignore all interests and indulge in one goal. "You are not a person, you're a leader." Junko would remind her, then claim she was so much more than what she was taught. She grew sad, then angry, then cold and sadistic. Despair made her emotional and irrational, so she acted out of impulse and revenge.

We know Izuru joined Junko just because he was bored and wanted entertainment, but I don't believe it was that simple. He wanted entertainment, yes. He was bored, yes. But that couldn't be all, right? He's strong, mentally and physically, at least he was supposed to be. He was so tired of the calculating life he lived, tired of not knowing who he once was, and tired of how tired he was, and it probably gave him a subconscious sadness. He grieved himself without realizing it, and he was probably not mentally stable due to his existence. Junko took advantage of it. She knew he was bored out of his mind, so she promised him ways to feel something other than empty boredom. "In a world without them, you can do whatever you want. You can find out who you once were, you can watch people act out of Despair and Hope, and you can even watch Despair and Hope battle till only one remains." She'd convince, speaking innocently till she brought him into a sense of false security and then turned it all around and left him to his own devices when she started THH.

Of course, there's also Chisa. She was exposed to the first Mutual Killing Game, and it hurt her emotionally. That couldn't break her though, logically it made no sense for that and the Reserve Boy to be what broke her, and the literal lobotomy didn't make sense. Sure, exposure and warping of the mind works, but Chisa'e actions come from her heart. So I think it'd be more fitting if Junko had used Chisa's loved ones as leverage. Kyosuke, Juzo, class 77, they're all important to her and she loves them dearly in their own separate ways. So Junko probably used all of their wellbeing against her, and she acted out of desperation and panic, cracking and shattering into shards of Despair slowly when Junko would speak.

Then, Chiaki was the cake on top of it all for them. Her death would ruin the tiny hints of sanity they clung to subconsciously, and it'd send waves of Despair through them all at once.

Class 77-B was her perfect target, and Izuru and Ryota were what she needed to help that plan become reality. She used her charms and their weaknesses to her advantage, and they ended up worshipping her as a savior. She "woke them up" in a sense, that's what she told them at least. In the end, she had some victory, but we all know how that played out in the end. Moral of the story, don't be batshit like Junko and try to watch out for people like her!

[erigold13261]

Are 1010 in your AU okay? Also what happened to BJ2 and DK West in your AU?

B2J were very injured and now live with West in a small apartment trying to save up money for medical expenses and possibly to move to a new city.

As for 1010? No. They are absolutely not okay.

White, like Rin, has some memory problems. So he ended up being demoted from leader in the 1010 code. The public technically sees him as the leader of 1010, but in private it is Blue that is calling the shots. This has made White bitter and hateful to Blue, which wasn't helped by Blue attacking people who messed with 1010 (Ex-Jay, West, and B2J all on separate occasions).

So White just became cynical and hostile to Blue and the rest of 1010, trying to force his way as leader through fear and pain against them. He also started to hate all the people around him, such as Tatiana, Eve, Mama, the fans that like the other 1010 over him. The only person he seems to care for anymore is himself and Neon, and even then there is a bitterness against Neon for demoting him (but he puts more blame onto Blue for that than Neon).

Blue is an overstimulated, emotionally stunted, stressed out mess. He was given the leader role against his will, forced to have constant monitoring and updates of Neon's life support, and had his glasses taken away to tone down his uniqueness (which messes with his eyes but he has to pretend he is not bothered by it for fear he will be seen as defective and scrapped).

All he wants to do is keep things the same, and protect Neon and 1010 but every time he does he fucks their group up and make the public scared, wary, or hateful towards them. And now he is the target of multiple people's hate, from the public, from NSR, and from 1010. Blue is alone and looking to reach out to someone, anyone, that could help.

Red is just scared all the time. He is clumsy and messes up a bunch. It got to the point that his "bad boy" reputation started to get questioned because he couldn't keep it up as well as he could. Especially not after seeing Purple get destroyed. Every action Red does is full of fear of messing up. He tends to stay right by Neon and Blue, never straying too far from either of them. When Neon needs someone to hold his cane, Red is always the one to hold it. Red holds it close to his chest protectively as a way to keep it safe but also be close to Neon (he hates seeing other people hold Neon's cane because he feels that is one of the few good things he knows how to do without messing up).

The only exception would be when Yellow is leading him into trouble. Yellow would either harass Green or White for fun while making Red tag along. Green never fights back but White does, and instead of taking his anger out of Yellow who is bothering him, White takes his anger out on Red hoping Yellow will stop if he sees Red getting hurt or scared (it works sometimes which is why White continues to do it, he doesn't go directly after Yellow because then Yellow would tattle on him and get them all in trouble).

Yellow, as mentioned, is the main trouble maker of the group. He just annoys and harasses anyone of 1010 because he has no outlet anywhere else. He has a lot of energy and no where to vent it out, so he uses his energy to get the others in trouble. If Red is holding something delicate, he will hit it out of Red's hand. Or he will break one of Yinu's toys and blame it on Green. Even shattering one of Eve's statues or ripping up Remi's drawings when they aren't around and saying Blue did it. Anything to make the others seem worse than him, because in Yellow's mind, if everyone else is in trouble, he is safe.

And finally Green. Green learned quick that he doesn't matter. Even before Purple was destroyed, he was the least popular 1010 and the lowest rank out of the group. He has absolutely no power, no say, and no help. Green just lets whatever happens happen. He doesn't fight back anymore. He will usually be alone unless Yellow or White come to mess with him. The only time he is safe is when Neon is around because 1010 behave around him (and sometimes when Blue is around because that means Neon is close by or Blue will report the abuse to Neon).

Green is usually turned off or in sleep mode when not working because to him it is easier to deal with life in short moments than the constant drain. Though, sometimes he is not off by choice. His ring can be pulled out to forcibly turn him off against his will (like a kill switch) which gets used against him quite frequently actually. Whenever he points out something Yellow is doing is stupid, or tries to question White for why he is trying to order everyone around, his ring gets pulled out. Usually Red or Blue have to put it back in, but sometimes it is Neon. White and Yellow always try to make it look like Green pulled it out on his own, or got it pulled out accidentally so they don't get in trouble, and since Green never speaks up it always works.

Neon doesn't see any of this happening with 1010 though. He is usually out of the mansion working on things for NSR. When he is home he is either putting 1010 to work practicing for concerts, creating music, or drinking. He doesn't spend time with 1010 as a group, but he does individually spend time with them. He actually has special moments with each 1010 that they come to him for when things get really rough.

When making music, if Neon is playing an upright piano he will allow Green to lay his back against it and feel the vibrations of the music or the two will sit outside while Neon smokes and they will look at the plants in the yard.

When he cooks food Red will be there with him trying to help. Carrying his food to the table or even learning how to mix a drink for Neon (though Neon does not want Red touching his alcohol because he doesn't like the idea of Red trying to drink it even though 1010 can't eat or drink in this AU).

When working on designs and picking out color palettes, Yellow will almost always be by his side and just talking to him. Pointing out things and placing designs next to each other. It usually does more harm than good, messing with Neon's ability to make something coherent, but he lets Yellow play with what he is working on if there is no deadline approaching.

Blue is almost always by Neon's side. Usually he is sitting on the floor next to Neon's legs. Even when Neon is spending time with the other 1010, Blue will be there (sitting behind and hugging Neon's waste when he plays piano, sitting on the floor/under the table when Neon eats, standing close to the table full of designs/ideas when Neon is working). Blue is basically Neon's shadow, and because of this Neon teaches Blue how to work with machines in case one of 1010 get damaged and he can't get to work on them. So they spend quality time together creating new small machines or tech that would help 1010, or he would learn how to fix parts of Neon's cybernetics.

White is the only one who actively seeks out quality time with Neon. The other's just learned Neon's habits and figured out when is a good time to be with him. White on the other hand forces quality time. He will take an acoustic guitar and bring it to Neon and ask him to play music and sing for him (while glaring at Blue enough that Blue excuses himself from the scene). The Neon will play and sing, while White sings with him as a chorus/backup. It is one of the only things that brings White joy anymore, and it is always ruined by a 1010 coming in or an NSR member calling. Either way, once the music session gets interrupted, White takes the guitar back and leaves instead of just dealing with a small interruption.

[lgcsoyoun]

MIN SOYOUN - The Beauty of the Enchanted Waves Sanctum

TW: mentions / allusions to child trafficking, prostitution, murder

Born to a family of fishermen, Soyoun barely recalls what her parents were like outside of being money-hungry and driven to get them out of poverty. After her father had gambled away what little savings they had, five-year-old Soyoun found herself and her infant younger brother Myungsoo being sold for a price high enough to pay off his debts. Soyoun wouldn't have minded, as long as she got to keep her infant brother by her side... However, it was not meant to be. They had meant for her brother to be raised as a soldier or a fisherman, while she had been sold off to one of the brothels that supposedly had ties to the ruling class, to be trained to become a performer meant to be played with by the men in power.

After initially struggling to adjust to her new life, Soyoun had learned to adapt. She always told herself that if she did what the brothel's Madam wanted, she would find her younger brother sooner. Years pass, and although she barely gets scraps of information, she refuses to give up. Throughout the years of learning the value of equivalent exchange, all Soyoun gathered was the following: her brother lives; the ones who had initially bought him have lost him, and some people have found him. But his whereabouts, his appearance, and his conditions are all unknown. Perhaps he has even forgotten who she is.

In the meantime, Soyoun devotes herself to becoming the best performer she can be. Of all the arts offered, dance and calligraphy were the one Soyoun had excelled in. This was evident as ink and water have responded to her more powerfully compared to the rest of the girls in the brothel.

Other than the arts such as singing, dancing, calligraphy, and entertaining, there was another art the Madam had expected Soyoun to excel in: the art of seduction. "With a face and body like yours, it would be a waste not to turn you into one of the finest performers in the sect."

As an apprentice performer, Soyoun had tailed an older, more established performer, who introduced her to many clients, including a painter who had taught her how to channel her abilities into ink and paper talismans, as well as encouraged her to pursue her affinity for illusions which she manifested through writing on her talismans in exchange for her virginity.

This encounter taught Soyoun at an early age that her face and body can get her anything she wanted in life, as long as she gave in to the whims of the men who were willing to pay the right price. Soyoun endures it all, knowing that the more powerful she is, the likelier she can find her lost baby brother, who she hopes is still alive.

Because of this training with the painter who she had given her virginity to, Soyoun has become powerful enough to paint any hallucinations that reveal the target's deepest hidden desires and fantasies. These illusions are tangible enough for all the target's senses to perceive as long as there is a source of water, at least until Soyoun calls off the spell. This ability is particularly useful for disguises and distractions when she performs, especially when the men she's entertaining want to be taken to someplace far away from reality.

With Soyoun reaching a higher cultivation stage compared to the rest of her contemporaries in the brothel, she finds herself the Madam's best pet project yet. "I paid a lot of money for you," she said as explanation when Soyoun asked. "And you're proving that you're worth a lot more than I paid for you."

Despite the many men of power and prestige who wanted to keep her, there was only one man brave enough to try winning her heart for himself: Choi Daeho, the son of one of her many generous patrons. He had been a constant in her life ever since her days as an apprentice performer who shadowed her mentor. Initially hired as a companion to help Daeho strengthen his cultivation abilities and a trophy to parade in public, the two of them had developed a genuine affection and friendship. Over the years, Daeho would tell Soyoun stories of the pocket realms that had the power to grant any of their wildest dreams and give them the answers they seek. Eventually, Daeho's dream to visit those pocket realms as his ancestors have done became Soyoun's, too, as she continues her ongoing search for her lost younger brother.

Although Soyoun's body, time, talents, and life were for sale to the highest bidder, her heart was the only thing that was not for sale, no matter how many have tried and failed. In between their harmless banter, rigorous training, and flirtatious touches, she had somehow allowed Choi Daeho to take her heart without realizing it. She would have been fine with just quietly pining after him for the rest of her life, knowing that performers like her were never allowed to marry into nobility. However, years into adulthood and becoming a respected performer and healer respectively, Daeho defied expectations and declared his intentions to marry her and get her out of the brothels.

The noble heir's desire to marry a common, lowly performer had caused a scandal in their circles, until Soyoun had proven her worth by achieving immortal enlightenment and defeating all the other potential noblewomen the clan had attempted to challenge her with. In the end, the family realized the advantage of having a powerful cultivator in their clan instead of letting her slip through their fingers, they accepted the engagement without much issue.

However, by moving to remove Soyoun from the brothels, Daeho had made himself an enemy to many of Soyoun's former sponsors and jilted suitors. On the night before they were to publicly announce the engagement, Daeho was found murdered on the way home from a diplomatic mission. There are many suspects, but no one ever figured out who the true murderer was.

All this lead Soyoun to moving back to the brothels, now that the Choi clan no longer has a reason to keep her. But their generosity and patronage remain, as this is what Daeho would have wanted. As she recovers from a broken heart, Soyoun devotes all her time to becoming the best cultivator she can be as she nurses her broken heart.

Just months after Daeho's death, the pocket realms opening and being among the chosen cultivators to visit and attempt to conquer them, this is the moment Soyoun has been waiting for: a chance to fulfill the dream Daeho had given her and to find the baby brother she had been searching for all her life.

[ajwinter-is-a-nerd]

Le Chat Et Le Serpent - Chapter 27

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamy" moments.

Chapter Summary:

The final chapter in part 2!!

Lila and Felix have discovered a new edge to use against the miraculous footage. Emelie stands up to Gabriel. Adrien and Luka start work to complete an arduous task.

In the second part I couldn't get the song "Won't Back Down" out of my head (hence the title of the chapter) - the headings aren't thematic with the song, but the fact that everyone is pushing forward. Fighting for what they believe is the right thing to do.

Chapter 27: Won't Back Down

Preparing for Battle

Volpina sneered as she threw the mandarin ball towards a suited up Felix. It gently brushed his collar before diligently returning to her open hand. “Fetch.” 

The Butterfly Miraculous flew from Felix’s chest, dragging Nooroo through the air with it. 

“It worked!” No longer having Felix’s power to maintain Volpina, Lila stood wearing only the Dog suit. She fist bumped the air as she danced in a circle. 

Felix’s face was flat as he took the jewel back from her. “Good work, Lila. Now all we need to do is make sure we’re able to get it on our next target.” The orange glow from Lila’s detransformation highlighted his pensive state. 

“Which you’re of course going to make me do.” Lila’s face scrunched as if she had smelt rotten milk. 

Felix tsked towards her. “Of course. You bitch about my own capabilities, yet you can barely send out a butterfly. Do what you do best, find someone to piss off.” 

Lila rolled her eyes as she passed back the Dog Miraculous. “I don’t understand why we don’t just go after Luka, or Nino!” She jetted her hand towards the board. 

Felix repressed the urge to lash out against her. Clicking his jaw, he instead chose to stand before their detective work. “Because we aren’t certain if Adrien is Chat Noir, or who has the rings.” 

“Oh!” The mention of the rings triggered the memory of the photos she captured at the restaurant. “Look at these.” 

Lila made Felix’s skin crawl, but she continued to prove her usefulness times over. If she had left him to fend for himself, he likely would have been found, or know nothing of Adrien’s worsening reactions to the rings. Eagerly, he grabbed her burner phone to inspect the photos. The elation that coursed through him evaporated as the content of the pictures sunk in.  

Lila, or in her disguise at the time Liam, had lifted up the lid of the garbage can to get a proper view of the wreckage within. There were mounds of multi-shaded blood stains; dark chunks of clots rested on garnet and scarlett towels. Nooroo’s voluminous gasp alleviated Felix from the responsibility of formulating a response. 

“Ugh, you’re so dramatic, Nooroo!” Lila sighed at the horrified Kwami.

Ignoring Lila, Felix turned towards Nooroo. “Have you seen this before? Is it normal for there to be that much?” He purposefully evaded the key descriptive word, knowing that it would force him to reimagine the image that seared into his head. 

Nooroo drearily shook their head. “Bleeds like this were rare. A similar one ended with Adrien in the hospital.”

Biting his lip, Felix internally cursed the rings. There was no excuse for the Agreste’s to treat this amount of loss with a blasé attitude. “People lose less blood when they get shot. What caused this?”

“The most severe losses I saw were either from conflicting demands or when Adrien fought the order with all his might.” Nooroo informed Felix, to the maximum of their capabilities. 

“Hmmm…” Felix returned to a contemplative state. Still lacking the courage to see the gruesome stack of blood, he flipped a few photos back before looking at the phone again. There were several photos documenting the dinner outing. “Logically, the ring holder was at this table then?” 

Nooroo was silent; the fact that each patron was a holder inhibited them from saying nearly anything besides commenting on their surface appearance. If Nooroo confirmed or denied the possibility of one of them wearing the ring; any comment could lead Felix and Lila to focus on how the return of the Miraculous’ to the Guardian occurred, or worse, who was on each side of the transaction. 

Barkk peered at the picture, immediately recognizing the holders within the frame. She gave a distressed glance towards Nooroo, but Nooroo warned her with a stilled face. 

Felix took the Kawmi’s silence as confirmation, knowing that they could not provide information that may endanger Miraculous holders. Either Marinette or Luka holds the ring. And either Adrien is really fighting what they tell him… or someone is crossing over rules that Gabriel already left in place…

Felix connected the phone to their printer so they could add the photos to their recon board. He tacked their outing into the rings’ section of the board. If they can’t say anything, is it more likely that it’s Luka? Since he’s a Miraculous holder? Or have we not been looking close enough at Marinette Dupain-Cheng? His thoughts were projected as he pinned Marinette under the ‘possibly Ladybug’ section. 

“You don’t really think that rat could be Ladybug?” Lila scoffed as Felix underlined her photo. 

“I think… it’s a lead worth following.” Felix observed the Kwamis to see if they would provide any tells, but they were careful to stay stoic. “Lila, one of these two is wearing my family’s ring. I need you to figure out who.” 

“Do you think it’s Luka?” Lila didn’t work to mask her excitement. “Think about all the kinky stuff you could do wearing one of those rings!” 

This time, Felix did not refrain from lashing out against the girl. As he massaged his reddened hand, his eyes leered into her.  “They should never be used by anyone other than Adrien or I.” 

Assenting to his command, she meekly nodded. 

“Plus,” Felix continued, “it would be more convoluted if it was Luka. When you mix a Miraculous with the power of the rings things become more… difficult.” 

One Life for Another's

The dawn sun crept through the kitchen windows as Emelie timidly tapped her mug. With each step that echoed through the house, she took another sip. Considering the amount of staff signing in to begin their shifts, she was already on her third latte. Even with the triple dose of espresso her movements were languid, she hadn’t slept a wink. The bottom remnants of her drink dribbled against her tongue as the steps she dreaded made their way into the kitchen. 

“Why didn’t you come to bed, Emelie?” His voice was chilly as he poured himself coffee from the freshly filled pot. 

She normally despised that he wouldn’t face her while he scolded, but at this moment, it was easier to speak to his back than to his face. “I asked Adrien to leave with me last night.” 

His knuckles whitened as he set the pot back on the element. His growling voice met her before his seething glare did. “And what did he say?” 

Emelie watched the caramel flecks swimming in the droplets of milk that had not quite made it out of her mug. “He didn’t want to leave you. Said that it would hurt you too much.” 

Gabriel pushed her chin up, so that she was forced to face his intimidating stature. “How dare you ask him to do such a thing. I’ll make sure you never have that opportunity again.” The tapping of the ring against the marble indicated his intentions. 

“You can’t! That is not what the rings are meant for. They are to keep him safe, not for totalitarian control!” Emelie stood to convey that she would not back down. 

“How dare you speak to me in this way!” His elevated voice enlarged his presence. “I have given you everything a wife could ask for. Yet you stealth behind my back to attempt to steal  my own flesh and blood from me. He is more my son than yours!” 

Emelie’s face deepened into a crimson tone as fury built within her stomach. She may not have bore Adrien, but she was more of a parent to the boy than Gabriel had been for years. Instead of dwelling on the childish blow, she focused on her ‘gifted’ life. “Remember that you would not be here without my family’s fortune. Your name may be on the face of the company, but it was built by Graham De Vanily.” 

Gabriel’s hand raised in a warning. His abuse had only recently crossed the line of physical, at least in regards to herself. Emelie wanted to leave before those hands grew heavier. 

“I will give him my ring, the ring that he is destined to hold, and your orders will never control him again! The ones you’ve reinforced for years will start to weaken as soon as it slips around his finger.” Her stance stumbled as she threatened him. Her nostrils flared, in anger towards Gabriel, and to her own weakened state. 

Nathalie, who had been attending to the last minutes of the argument from around the corner, broke her halted position. Hastily, she fled upstairs to grab the Peacock Miraculous. Running her finger along the crack, she doubted her proposed actions. Should I stand in? Emelie is too weak to use this again. She already pushed herself too many times with it. But Emelie asked me to support Gabriel, to offer no indication of thwarted plans. Ugh…I’ll just bring it down and let her decide. 

With the Miraculous hidden within her fist, she furtively sprinted towards the scene. Pausing, she spied Gabriel as he confidently began his march towards Adrien’s room. Creeping around the corner into the kitchen, she found Emelie sobbing against the countertop, too powerless to intervene. 

“Emelie.” Nathalie’s voice was firm as she held out the Miraculous. “I might be able to stop him.” 

The waterfalls upon Emelie’s face dammed as she analysed the jewel in Nathalie’s hand. Using the counter's edge to guide her, she reached towards the brooch. “I know what to do.” 

Concerned over her state, Nathalie tried to refuse. “Please, just tell me, I will do it so you don’t have to.” 

Emelie’s fingers coiled around the Miraculous. “No, I have to do this. I need to fix what I’ve broken.” 

Nathalie mournfully agreed, it was Emelie’s choice. 

“Emelie! What are you doing? Are you okay?” Duusu was immediately perturbed by Emelie’s trembling state. 

“Duusu,” Emelie forced the words from her throat, “Spread my feathers.” 

Gabriel had reached the family portrait at the top of the stairs when something flickered before him. 

What are you up to Emelie? He tapped his own Miraculous in preparation. There were spots of scarlett along the floor, leading away from the direction of Adrien’s room. Gritting his teeth, he resumed his direction, but was thwarted by a familiar voice.

“Dad?” It was undoubtedly Adrien’s voice, but it carried a higher pitch than what the boy had grown into. Unable to fight the soft beckon, he followed it. 

A lime coloured helmet teetered along the floor as the blood trail grew thicker. A rhythmic spinning of a bicycle wheel echoed through the hall. “Dad?” The voice repeated.

Bile and tears fought to break free as Gabriel walked into the set that Emelie had created for him. A young Adrien lay on his back, his fingers spread towards Gabriel. His skull was exposed as it continued to ink towards the floor. Once Senti-Adrien saw Gabriel, he sat upright, his eyes glowing an unholy bright green. “Dad, I thought you said you would protect me?” 

Unable to resist, tears escaped from Gabriel’s face, his features softened. He was aware that he was witnessing an illusion, but he couldn’t resist reaching towards the boy. “I’m - I’m so sorry, son.” His touch quivered as he tried to prevent the flow of mystical blood. 

“Why didn’t you keep me safe?” Senti-Adrien’s voice was an uncanny melody. 

Before Gabriel could pull the illusion of his boy into his arms, he disappeared. Fuming at the psychological warfare, Gabriel stormed back to the kitchen to find Emelie. He didn’t walk far before he saw that she had dragged herself from the kitchen. Her body lay limp in the centre of the main hall, nearly the exact same place Adrien would lay nearly a decade later. 

Duusu was frantically circling Emelie. She had not called down the power, but no longer had the energy to wield it. “Emelie? Emelie!” 

Nooroo soared ahead of Gabriel to join Duusu. They had seen enough bodies to understand the state of Duusu’s holder. “Shh, Duusu, I’ve got you.” Nooroo held Duusu as he shook. 

“What happened?” Duusu sank further into Nooroo’s hold. 

“She has been weak for a long time.” Nooroo soothed the Kwami. 

“But… but she knew she couldn’t! Why did she use it?” 

Nooroo’s seething glare towards Gabriel answered for them. 

Gabriel was too preoccupied with his fallen wife to pay attention to the judgement cast upon him. “Go hide. You two cannot be seen.” He commanded as he pulled Emelie into his arms. It was the moment that he hadn’t got with Adrien’s Sentimonster, but the hold was unyieldingly futile, barren of warmth or closure. No matter how tight he held, she would never come back to him. 

Within the confines of the master bedroom, Duusu succumbed to his emotions. Between heaves he mumbled, “was your master always so cruel?” 

Nooroo ran their hand along Duusu’s face. “No, he used to be gentle and caring. The dark magic in the rings changed him.” 

“What will happen to the boy now? To the other ring?” The memories of a younger Adrien were still ungraspable to Duusu, but he always felt an invisible tie towards the boy. Everytime he heard the boy’s soft chuckle, it warmed his chest; heart or not, he knew the boy meant something to him. 

“I don’t know.” Nooroo tried to hide their fear, but their voice still quaked. “All I know is without Emelie’s ring being actively used, there will be no balance. All we can do is pray that our Guardian finds us.” 

The day drew long and wearisome in the Agreste home as they dealt with Emelie’s passing. From this day forward, Gabriel would always hold the weight of Emelie’s death, and Adrien would always believe it was caused by his refusal to leave. 

Standing at the Gates to Hell

“Are you sure you want to do this tonight?” Luka asked as he approached Adrien’s bed. Luka’s exhaustion carried through to his fingertips; highlighted through the trembling black boxes in his hands containing their day old tiramisus. This wasn’t the romantic situation he envisioned while they shared their creamy, caffeinated sweetness; but hopefully, it would at least soften the intensity of the moment. 

Adrien’s face was illuminated by the laptop that glowed in front of him. He didn’t break his robotic disposition as he responded to Luka. “I wanted to get it done yesterday, but…” 

His trailing sentence referred to the reason their tiramisu was not fresh. Their moment of serenity as they cat napped under the stars on a Parisian rooftop. 

Luka’s fingers pushed into the boxes as he wriggled himself around Adrien’s fixed position. His shins met the outsides of Adrien’s crossed legs. “Oh yeah, we’re basically famous now.” Delicately, Luka set Adrien’s treat against his ankles in the centre of his stance. 

Using his free hand, Adrien slightly repositioned the dessert. His glance stayed unmoved as he flatly acknowledged the comment. “Goodie, I’ve always wanted to be famous.” 

Adrien couldn’t see Luka’s smirk, but he could feel the amused tensing of Luka’s face against his neck. The corner of Adrien’s lips lifted microscopically, enough that the man behind him was blind to the warming effect he had created. 

Luka’s chin further pressed onto Adrien as he stretched to peek at the tilting confection in his Prettyboy’s lap. He decided that his own was too far, and stealing some of Adrien’s may encourage the Prettyboy to have a bite himself. Slithering his arm against Adrien’s side, he pushed the fork through the airy dessert. The aroma of vanilla coffee filled the air as he lifted it to his own mouth, astutely aware that he had underestimated the crumbly nature of the desert. The mess became easier to ignore once the velvety soft confection melted along his tongue. 

Drawn to the smell, Adrien finally diverted his gaze, searching for the fork within Luka’s hand. Registering the movement, Luka prepared a bite for Adrien. Holding once again only the reflection of his laptop within his jade eyes, he opened his mouth to the approaching delight. He pursed his lips as Luka retracted the fork, effectively cleaning off the cream remnants. The pleasure brought by the delicacy was intensified as Luka’s soft lips caressed his throat. Adrien allowed the screen to leave his sight for a moment as a light moan rumbled through him. 

Luka’s hold tightened around Adrien, his right hand laid firmly flat against his beating heart. Providing a last firm kiss unto Adrien, he broke their connection, bringing both of their attention back to the gruesome task at hand. “Where are we starting?” 

Sighing, Adrien resumed his slouched position before the black and white footage. “Thought we should start at the most important part, the day my father got hold of the Miraculous’.” 

The violin within Adrien tensed as he sped through the footage. It would be difficult to decipher anything from the quality of video, but it was better than nothing. Luka jolted at the mirrored figure of Adrien entering the corner of the screen. “There he is!” He nearly shouted as he pointed a finger, from his left hand, towards the skipping video. 

Adrien slammed the spacebar and started tapping back. Together, they watched from the moment Flairmidable entered the room. Immediately, the supervillain casually leaned into Gabriel’s throne. 

Wow, he just made himself at home. Adrien was astonished at the level of comfort Felix carried within Gabriel’s office; it was a sentiment he had never experienced himself. 

Gabriel entered the office in a huff, initially oblivious to Flairmidable spinning his ball upon the tip of his finger. Through grainy footage they could make out that the two were speaking, but most was left to the imagination. Flairmidable pointed towards the opposite edge of the office. 

“What’s he pointing at?” Luka scraped at his one memory of the inside of Gabriel’s office. Considering it was in ruins by the time he set foot in it, all he could imagine was the portrait of Emelie.

“Not sure. There’s a safe behind my mom’s painting, maybe that?” Adrien refocused on the silent discussion unfolding on the screen.

It appeared as if Flairmidable held a bargaining chip within his fingers, but it was too pixelated to differ between animated jest or a real artefact. 

Luka’s face pushed into the crease in Adrien’s neck, applying support he knew the boy would not ask for. Briefly separating from the mousepad, Adrien curled the tips of his fingers around Luka’s hand that steadied his chest. 

“Felix still has the ball in his hand, what do you think he traded?” Adrien rewound the footage again to see if a slower speed would help to clarify the space between Flairmidable’s fingers. 

“Self-worth?” Luka’s tone was thick with irony, but he still pulled in along with Adrien, to look closer at the screen. 

Again, there was nothing significant to be seen. 

Resuming the playback speed, Adrien’s heart rate picked up as a ball went flying into the air. Luka strengthened the pressure against Adrien’s chest. He felt Adrien’s appreciation as he relaxed within his grasp. 

Gabriel hunched over the desk, which Adrien assumed meant he was gawking over his new set of jewellery. The edge of the desk was just beyond the sight of the camera, but the timing would make the transaction undeniable. 

“If I show them… they… they’re all going to know.” The magnitude of the footage collided into Adrien. 

Assiduously, Luka moved the dessert from Adrien’s lap so he could completely surround the fretful man. Adrien’s teeth veered on chattering as he pressed his jaw against Luka’s temple. 

“You’re not forced to show them, you said so yourself.” Luka knew when Adrien had said these words that he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, but hoped that it would help nevertheless. 

Adrien’s entire body began to shake. He would have to show them something or they would assume he knew all along. “I should have just told them right away, I just… I didn’t think they would need to know… he was… he was gone!” 

Luka pulled their entangled bodies towards the bed as he endlessly kissed wherever his lips would meet. “Alya knows, and I know, that you’re Chat Noir. We won’t let you down.” The additional edge began to slice Luka into reality, these videos had the power to take Adrien away from him. “We can’t let you down.” 

Yearning to topple his balance between pain and comfort, Adrien turned to face Luka. His lips would dull the agony of reality. 

Understanding Adrien’s pinning for distraction, Luka cupped Adrien’s cheek as he collided with his lips. The escape and ferocity of the movement incited a raspy purr to release from Adrien. 

Luka pushed Adrien to his back as his fingers ran through his hair. Placing his forearms below his model of perfection, Luka stiffened their connection. As Adrien’s fingers turned to claws against his back, Luka’s stomach clenched. A constant relay of reactions intensified each shared movement. 

One of Luka’s hands slid from Adrien’s back to seize the boy’s bucking hip. Adrien’s grasp on Luka compounded strength with each kiss. Burning sensations ran through Luka as he guided Adrien through thrusts. Steam continued to build as Luka focused control through his own hips and slid his hand up Adrien’s shirt. 

The connection of skin triggered Adrien to arch his back, absentmindedly dropping his arm that was nearest to the outside of the bed. His hand met a chilled pile of goo. Adrien groaned as his body stilled. 

Initially, the groan had fueled Luka, but the excitement was quick to drop when Adrien’s body stopped responding. “Are you okay?” His eyes shone heavily blue as he fretted over Adrien. 

Adrien’s face fell to a pout, but it was too akin to Chat’s for Luka to link it with true sadeness. This inclining was proved true as Adrien flashed a massively dorky grin. 

Mystified, Luka stretched back his head, attempting to comprehend the cause of Adrien’s reaction. “What?” His voice pitched high with amusement at the mischief growing within Adrien’s expression. 

“Oh nothing,” Adrien did a terrible impersonation of a cavalier tone. Unbeknownst to Luka, Adrien was only speaking to distract him from his incoming attack. “Just thinking about how much I love your nose.” 

The word of endearment was the first piece that rattled Luka, but it was seamlessly replaced by the mention of his nose. “My nose?” His stare of confusion was answered as Adrien’s finger met the tip of his nose. 

“BOOP!” Adrien giggled as he left a crumbly smear on Luka. 

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” Luka warned as he dove into the crease of Adrien’s neck. 

The residual dessert tickled as it spread across Adrien. His squirms had no power against Luka’s confectionary revenge. “There, now we’re even.” Luka gleamed at his art upon Adrien’s neck. 

“Very impressive work.” Adrien agreed as he reached for another forkful of their neglected dessert. 

Luka shrank away from the fork, but Adrien had no intentions of wasting more of it. His fingers were still coated in cream as he brought the bite to his lips. “I think you made a very good choice, sir.” Adrien’s words were slightly hindered from the sugar within his mouth. 

“I agree.” The chromatic silver flashed through the blue within Luka’s irises. He tenderly lapped up the mess he had made against Adrien’s neck, enjoying the sweetness of both the dessert and Adrien’s gentle whimpers. Satisfied with his repurposing of the tiramisu, he raised himself to hover over Adrien’s face once again. 

Adrien sported a silly face as he maintained eye contact with Luka, stabbing blindly until the weight of the fork confirmed he had lifted another bite. Luka observed in amusement as the boy clumsily pushed the fork through his lips, leaving smears around his mouth. 

As Adrien’s hand shifted to replenish his fork again, Luka repeated his actions, kissing away the mess that was left. With a light hum, he held Adrien’s chin between his thumb and his index finger. “First, as much as I enjoy any excuse to kiss you,” he paused to deliver another peck, “I would actually like to eat some of the desemated dessert too. Second, you are going to choke if you keep trying to eat laying down.” 

Somehow, Adrien managed to sneak a third mouthful past Luka. “You know,” he swung the, now cleaned, fork in his hand, “I’ve heard I’ve got a pretty strong gag reflex.” 

Rolling his eyes, Luka stole the fork from Adrien to take his own bite. 

-

Luka’s snores echoed through the room once Adrien came out of the bathroom. He had a strong inclination that the man was not going to last through his night time care ritual; in fact, he wasn’t entirely convinced that Luka was coherent when he made the promise that he would ‘stay’ awake. 

Grabbing his laptop from the foot of the bed, Adrien slipped under the fresh covers beside Luka. Sensing the shift of weight in bed, Luka automatically pulled Adrien closer. Adrien snickered as he held the laptop above Luka while he coiled his grip against him. Once Luka was settled, Adrien started the playback from the secondary camera in Gabriel’s office. He wasn’t sure what he would be able to find, but it was cathartic for himself, in a self-torturesque fashion. 

Unsurprisingly, the desk wasn’t visible, but he continued to watch the seemingly still image. He pounced to pause the footage once Gabriel hit the screen. Slowing the playback speed, he watched as his father stood before his mother’s painting. In an odd way, it comforted him to see that even before the start of the final battle he was reminiscing about his mother. 

Gabriel peered suspiciously behind him before he pressed into the painting. 

I don’t remember there being a secondary security measure on the painting… it always just swung open for the safe. 

The floor fell out below Gabriel’s feet.

What the fuck? Where did he go? 

Adrien replayed the footage, squinting at the scene over and over. 

I have to see if that’s still there. 

His sense of motivation fueled him to firmly close the laptop, slightly rousing the man connected to him. He set the computer on the bedside table before he wriggled out of Luka’s hold. Luka was always a deep sleeper, but losing the warmth of Adrien abruptly woke him. 

Rubbing his face, Luka saw Adrien’s blonde hair cascading down his face as he pulled socks over his feet. 

“What’s going on?” Luka’s fatigued voice rumbled. 

Adrien’s emeralds shot towards Luka, surprised that the blue haired man had actually broken into consciousness. “Something weird on the video, I need to go investigate.” 

Luka nodded his head as he threw the covers off of him. Adrien crawled on the bed to set his hand on Luka’s bare chest. “It’s okay, I’ve got this.” Adrien assured him. 

Luka ascended to his knees to kiss Adrien’s jaw; it was his method to disregard Adrien’s words in a loving fashion. He slid one of his t-shirts, that hung in Adrien’s closet, over his head before he stumbled through slipping on his own socks and shoes. The laces from Luka’s converse loosely hung to the sides as he marched to follow Adrien, who was nearly at the bedroom door. 

The light in the main hall brought a dull sting to Luka’s vision as he stumbled behind Adrien. Using the railing for stability, he propelled himself down the stairs. Adrien was rapidly approaching Gabriel’s office door. 

Luka brushed his arms once he entered the office, as if he could simply wipe away the eeriness that ran over his skin. The office was neatly put back together after Adrien’s debacle, merely devoid of the furniture he broke. Most of the books had been returned, but there were obvious holes within the shelves. Adrien stood paralyzed before the monument to his mother. 

“Are you okay?” Luka guardedly stepped towards the statue of Adrien. 

Adrien remained silent as he peered closer at the painting. Luka stood beside him, trying to follow his gaze. Adrien’s fingers softly ran along the painting, searching for the uneven pieces. Before Luka could ask anything, one of his feet sunk into the floor. Panicked, he recoiled his other foot to stand beside Adrien on the descending platform. 

Author's Note:

Totally dorky note here - I haven't used the word uncanny for a very specific reason. In sociological terms, 'uncanny' is a Freudian reference - it is the "glimmer" that illuminates that something is not real; such as being too perfect, there's something in your gut that the situation is not what it seems. It relates to that deep feeling where language and symbols lose comprehension, but that's a lesson for a different day.

Not sure if you can tell, but I'm a big fan of tiramisu. It is the best.

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I teetered back and forth on exactly where to slice this part, let me know what you think! If there are any things you're hoping to find out in the next part!

The next part is going to be a little bit roller coastery, but there will not be a time shift between parts this time.

Disclaimer * The characters and original plot were written and created by Thomas Astruc. This writing is merely an interpretation in a sad gay type of way.