#of whom I have a cast suggestion for just now it won’t work

[demonikeye]

My top scenes I’d like to see in the VERY hypothetical TRC adaptation in no specifical order

And in my very particular opinion, I’d like to see how this scene would be developed since it’s internal monologue

[friendlylocalwhumper]

Hey there whump-fellow! I was wondering if you might help me out a bit. I'm writing an original superhero story for Camp NaNo this year and I want the main character's superpower to come with whumpy side-effects, but I am having a hard time coming up with anything even slightly original in that regard. Do you have any suggestions or examples I might play off of? Also, I am going to ask around to a few whump blogs to cast a wider net! Any suggestions as to whom I should ask?

Telekinesis/mind reading with a side effect of migraines. Agony, sensitivity to light/noise. Days-long pain after just using their powers once, which causes the pavlovian response of an awful headache starting up just at the thought of using their powers.

Fire powers that leave burns, thick scars that hurt less and less the more the powers are used but the nerves die more and more, meaning that the whumpee loses feeling in their fingers, then hands, then arms. They will miss out on feeling gentle breezes, soft blankets, holding hands with a friend.

Ice powers that cause frostbite. They can put out a fire, stop an enemy instantly, catch someone who is falling before they die… but the pain afterward is intense, and they always have to weigh the benefits of saving lives versus potentially losing a part of their own body. Or their powers give frostbite to anyone that the ice touches!

Invincibility that lasts for as long as it’s being used, but after the battle is over, in safety, all the damage hits at once. Bruises bloom in purples and blues, cuts spring forth and leave the whumpee scrambling to apply pressure and soak up too much blood before they pass out.

Invisibility/phasing that is strategically useful because the whumpee can sneak or pass through obstacles, but it makes their body have too loose a grasp on reality and their loved ones lose memories of them. They may be able to sneak into a dangerous place and get out unharmed, but their mother or partner will now struggle to recall their name.

A superpower that was desperately wished for in an hour of need, but now every time that it’s used, something precious has to be sacrificed. For the power to be used, an hierloom has to be chosen to disappear from existence, or a limb has to be chosen to never work without pain again, or a comforting memory has to be forgotten. Eventually this would leave the whumpee tougher, less sensitive to loss, but they would also have so much less comfort to come home to. This power would work great as a “gift” from a deity, fae, supernatural creature, or a naively summoned ghost.

Villain-turned-hero who used to use their powers for evil, but now that they are fighting for good, their powers keep trying to turn on them. They used to melt guards’ weapons and locks off vaults, but now that they try to melt doors shut to keep out storms or villains, the molten metal sputters and hits their skin. Or they used to make their nemesis’ armor, tools, or on their most evil day, that nemesis’ most cherished friend disappear; but now after a long hard day of protecting people, when they come home, they find that their partner is missing. They find that their car keys are gone, their fridge, their shoes. Sometimes it is a small thing they won’t even miss, and sometimes it is something so devastating to lose that they fall to their knees and sob.

The superpower of being able to compel that the truth be given after they ask a question. Very useful for a detective, a hero in a corrupt society littered with propaganda, a spy trying to work their way up in an evil organization. But if they ask a question that someone doesn’t know the answer to, it can drive that person mad. If they ask a question someone would rather die than answer, they will give the truth but then be emotionally broken from admitting that aloud. If that person would rather kill than answer…

Any power which has no direct side effects immediately after use, but which is forbidden or horrifying for some reason. Maybe it is the power to bring the dead back to life for just long enough to answer questions, which is morally complicated. Maybe it’s the power to cause intense agony without leaving physical marks. Maybe it’s the ability to travel through time, which causes alternate universes to sprout up and can cause mass deaths, confusion, or chaos in the future. Whatever the power is, it has to be used for some reason, and hiding its use and its consequences leaves the hero afraid, unable to trust anyone, and devastatingly ashamed. This could lead to angsty confessions, betrayal, abandonment, a public execution, banishment, etc.

A very subtle, pleasant power that is embarassingly weak in a time when more power is needed. the ability to numb pain, which feels useless during war when people are bleeding out and losing friends. the ability to see the future in a time when everyone knows what the horrifying outcome will be and no one can stop it. the ability to stop time, but not to move or change what is happening, which just leaves the hero stuck to think, to rely on their own mind to try to solve a terrible problem while seeing everyone frozen in a moment of pain or fear.

I’m not sure about other whump blogs you could ask, but anyone who sees this post is totally welcome to add ideas! The side effects of the superpower don’t have to be direct or ironic, so any random idea could be perfect for the story! No idea is bad!

[ncisfranchise-source]

Heading into its 21st season, NCIS has a tough job: properly paying tribute to David McCallum, who died at the age of 90 in September, and his character, Dr. Donald “Ducky” Mallard, who was first introduced in the backdoor pilot episodes of JAG in 2003.

Season 21 Episode 2, airing on February 19, 2024, is the one tasked with doing just that, and it will be cowritten by the actor whose character we first met as Ducky’s assistant, Brian Dietzen. (Jimmy Palmer is now a doctor himself and the chief medical examiner.) Dietzen is once again collaborating with Scott Williams, with whom he wrote Season 19’s “The Helpers” and Season 20’s “Old Wounds.”

“In the episode, the team will learn of Ducky’s passing and reflect on their memories of him as they grieve,” co-showrunners/executive producers Steven D. Binder and David North told TVLine. “And true to Ducky’s meticulous and compassionate nature, even after he’s gone, he still manages to solve one last crime with the team.” They also promised “a very touching and special moment you won’t want to miss.”

But what moments need to be in what is sure to be one of the most powerful, touching episodes of the series? We suggest just those below.

An episode worthy of David McCallum and Ducky

Listen, this should go without saying and it’s more likely than not that we’ll get it, but it’s the only way to kick off this list. Whatever the tribute ends up being, it should be one that would make McCallum proud and properly reflects what both his and Ducky’s legacies mean for the show and franchise. That, of course, would include flashbacks to significant moments over the past 20 seasons.

Major returns — or at least mentions

While Dietzen and Sean Murray (who plays Tim McGee) have both been part of the show since Season 1, they were both introduced (and recurred) then. But Gibbs (Mark Harmon) has a long history with Ducky — the 400th episode detailed its origins — and Tony (Michael Weatherly), too, was part of the JAG episodes. We also saw what Ducky meant to characters who have since left like Ziva (Cote de Pablo) and Abby (Pauley Perrette) over the years. (Gibbs, Tony, Ziva, and Abby are also characters Dietzen told TV Insider in February he “would be ecstatic to write for.”) At least one major return would be great — especially from Harmon, given Ducky and Gibbs’ friendship — but if that doesn’t happen, these characters need to at least be mentioned in a significant way.

At least one flashback with Young Ducky

Adam Campbell has appeared in four episodes since Season 12, including the 400th, as young Ducky, and from his first, it was clear he was perfect casting. And if Mark Harmon isn’t in the episode, his son Sean Harmon could always return as young Gibbs for a flashback highlighting the early days of that friendship.

Palmer sharing an anecdote about Ducky...

… just like Ducky did all the time. He’s the perfect person to deliver it, and it would be especially fitting if that is what helps the team solve its case, given Binder and North’s tease in their statement.

Heartfelt emotion, grief, and joy

It’s going to be a heartbreaking hour. We already know that. But there needs to be (at least a little) joy as well as Ducky’s life is celebrated. Not only could that work, but it could also fit the bill of what Dietzen previously told us he wanted to tackle when it came to writing his next episode: “I would love to do a lighter show, for sure. … But that said, if I could dig into some darker stuff with any one of these characters, that would be a joy to do as well.” Ducky lived a long life. There are some stories still to be told. Those could certainly bring some laughs.

Acknowledgement of what Ducky meant to NCIS beyond the team (and their memories)

Sometimes it’s easy to forget about the rest of the agency, but Ducky didn’t just work with this one team. And he continued to mean quite a deal to NCIS as its historian after he left the chief ME position. There could be some sort of gathering — outside of a funeral, if that’s shown — or not, but what there definitely needs to be is something permanent in the building that serves as a reminder of the legacy Ducky has left behind.

It ends in the morgue

Empty, lights out.

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

Who do you prefer: experienced or rich?

A little bit about how Zhongli and Childe are arguing, and you are drinking expensive and delicious tea in the background.

~

Warnings: possible inconsistency of characters, conversations about the experience in bed (but no description of the process itself or a serious description of vulgar things), strange dialogues.

~

–Hey, (Y/N), – you were distracted from drinking tea, which was more expensive than all your clothes, and looked at Childe, – which men do you prefer more: experienced, – he cast a fleeting glance at Zhongli, – or rich?

You almost spat out your tea, but in the end you were able to pull yourself together and stared at the Harbinger.

–What is this strange division?

–Well, I mean… If you could choose, who would you choose: experienced or rich?

–Do you think there are so many people from these two categories who want to start dating me?

–This is just a theoretical question! Just answer it!

–Why should I answer a stupid question that doesn't concern me? Zhongli, tell him!

–I have to support Childe, – the Geo user, on whom you had pinned your hopes, pushed the cup away from him. – I would also like to know the answer, (Y/N).

–Why are you both so interested in this?! – your vessel with precious and beautiful tea landed abruptly on the table.

–What if I find the perfect match for you while I'm working? I wouldn't want the man of your dreams to pass you by.

–I'd rather believe he'd walk past you two. You will kill him, and Zhongli will bury him.

The former god and the Harbinger exchanged glances. It seems you were right. (You were definitely right). Rolling your eyes, you tapped the table with your fingernail.

–Why should I choose only from these two categories?

–Why can't you just answer? – the red-haired man asked in response.

You hit Tartaglia under the table, and he pouted, responding in kind. A small fight ensued, which was interrupted by Zhongli with his foot.

–I think this argument is quite useless. Obviously, who will choose (Y/N).

–And who? – Childe asked, frowning and pursing his lips in displeasure.

–Experienced, of course, – and the god continued to drink tea with the look of a winner.

–And why?!  – the Harbinger hit the table, rising. – What is the point of experience if a person has no money? Where will he take his girlfriend? Are you suggesting she stare at the trees in the forest?!

–A picnic in nature is a very good option for a first date.

–I'm not denying it, – Zhongli rolled his eyes, hearing too much sarcasm in the archer's voice, – but what about caring and courting? After all, it is much more pleasant to spend time with your love, enjoying delicious food and admiring the city from a huge panoramic balcony, bought only for him and for her, than walking through a forest full of predators, ticks and other dangers that I will be delighted with, but not a girl.

–However, this only concerns the beginning of a relationship. In the future, having experience is much better.

–But a person without experience will be able to immediately learn how to do what a partner likes.

–And if he accidentally injures a girl because he won't know how to treat her?

–Yes, it's much nicer to spend nights knowing that before your lover slept with a bunch of girls.

–It could have been a long-term relationship. And what difference does it make who slept with whom, if now a person is going to focus only on his beloved?

–Well, maybe nights with an experienced person will be a little better than with an experienced one, but the rest of life is clearly more pleasant with someone who has a lot of money. There will be no need to come home exhausted because of a long and difficult shift, try to make ends meet and starve. A rich partner can take care of his lover like a royal.

–An experienced one can, too, – Zhongli raised and lowered his eyebrows so quickly that you thought for a second that it seemed to you.

–But still the rich will do it more often, don't you think? A person will be very pleased if his partner just takes and buys what his lover liked. It is easy for a rich person to arrange a paradise on earth for a lover.

–But the experienced one clearly has more stamina, – the amber eyes flashed, something dragon-like appeared in them.

–I am sure there will be no problems with this if the partner is engaged in physical activity in one way or another.

–An experienced person will be better able to help cope with worries. In addition, it will be easier for an experienced person to help a partner fall asleep.

–Cute bedtime conversations and hugs have not been canceled. Or will an experienced person think of his partner as only a person who is engaged in something obscene? Oh, how low! – Tartaglia grinned. – A rich man will be able to fulfill all the dreams that his beloved will have.

–But an experienced one will send a lover to the seventh heaven.

–Experience can be gained.

–Money can be earned.

–It's not as easy as you think!

–Learning to feel your partner is also difficult. It's obviously more difficult than learning how to hold chopsticks, – amber eyes lingered for a second on the fork that Childe was forced to buy and carry around with him forever.

–Believe me, a rich man has learned to earn money and will learn to take care of his partner in bed!

–And even use his fingers and hands? – look at the sticks again.

–If anything, you can always use the tounge.

You watched two idiots arguing. Sipping tea, you mentally sighed and rolled your eyes.

–Well, I'm done, – you said, interrupting your interlocutors. – Thanks for the treat, but I'm going…

–S-stop! – Childe grabbed your hand and smiled radiantly. – First answer the question, – "I..." – Otherwise I won't pay for your tea.

You rolled your eyes, now in real, but nodded. Thinking, you tapped your chin with your finger.

–I suppose... – the men leaned closer so as not to miss a single word. – Yes, I know the answer. I won't choose either.

God and man almost fell on the table and floor from your words. Mentally grinning, you drawled theatrically innocently:

–I would prefer other qualities and even a special appearance. Now if it was a man with long hair and the ability to dress beautifully, especially in suits... – the Harbinger clenched his teeth, Zhongli smiled faintly. – If he knew how to handle different types of weapons and knew how to behave with children ... – now it was Childe's turn to look like a winner, – then... I would love to go on a date or even two with such a man. And now I have to go. Thanks for the tea!

You freed yourself from the Harbinger's grip and walked away singing.

But before you could turn away from the restaurant, two men ran out of the door and rushed in different directions. You just giggled. They're such fools. Why choose only one... if you can choose two and ask them to teach each other? Blushing and grinning, you started to go home.

Bonus (?)

You were sitting and drawing the city, when suddenly Ganyu appeared next to you, carrying Qiqi in her arms.

–(Y/N), aren't you on good terms with Mr. Zhongli?! – you turned your head and nodded to the girl. – D-do you know why he abruptly asked me to train him to shoot arrows and started treating Qiqi and Xiao as if they were his children?!

Before you could answer, Keqing started approaching you from the other side.

–Ganyu, there you are! Do you know where you can find a good and unoccupied seamstress? Someone ordered fifty suits from Ms. Ningguang's master, paying three times more than we offer! We urgently need to sew a dress for the Ms. Ningguang, otherwise we will all have problems!

You closed the album and sighed. These fools… Standing up, you snapped your fingers, attracting the attention of the girls and the little zombie.

–I'll deal with it. But you have to arrange a date for three.

–F-for three?! – Ganyu stuttered. Keqing blushed.

–Yes. Otherwise, the whole country will be destroyed in the near future. I'm off!

And you jumped off the cliff, revealing the glider. The girls and the girl stayed upstairs, forced to just start working.

Ah, if you had told them that the Harbinger and the former Geo Archon would fight, they would have run right away, without even asking questions.

[robininthelabyrinth]

I'd like to see more of the Jiang Cheng has spider venom fic. Mostly because I want to see him bite someone else. How about a Jin?

Normal For the Spider - Extra: 5 People Jiang Cheng Bit, Some of Whom Deserved It

ao3

1 – Wei Wuxian

“So I’ve been exchanging letters with shijie on account of the whole theoretically banished business,” Wei Wuxian said as they strolled down the Qiongqi Path together, Wen Ning behind them making shy stuttering friends with the handful of Jiang sect disciples Jiang Cheng had brought along with him – he’d deliberately picked the friendliest and most social of the lot, the ones that acted like overgrown puppies and wanted to adopt everyone they met, and sure enough they’d mobbed Wen Ning like a bunch of crows intent on raising the poor little sparrow they found into a proper bird. It was no more than Wen Ning deserved, in Jiang Cheng’s opinion. Someone needed to socialize him, and clearly neither his sister nor Wei Wuxian were doing crap about it.

“That’s nice,” Jiang Cheng said. “If by nice you mean extremely suspicious. What about in particular?”

“Your family inheritance.”

“Is this about the summer house we have near that mountain lake? I told you, it’s been deserted for years and may possibly be haunted by something resistant to the usual liberation techniques, but if you really want to go there, you’re of course allowed…”

“That’s not the inheritance I meant and you know it.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. He did know it. “What questions do you have now?” he asked. “More medical stuff from Wen Qing?”

She’d recovered from the venom very well and immediately started wanting to know everything. Recovered a little too well, in Jiang Cheng’s opinion.

“No, this one’s for me,” Wei Wuxian said. “We’re going to Lanling City in order to let Jin Ling bite me as a way to establish familial ties and let him ‘absorb’ good aspects from my personality, right?”

Jiang Cheng nodded.

“So in some cases, biting is an act of affection?”

Jiang Cheng nodded, a little more warily.

“Then how come you’ve never bitten me?”

“It’s only affectionate when you’re a baby,” Jiang Cheng said. “Once you grow into your childhood venom, it starts being dangerous, even to family; you don’t do affection-bites after that point. And when you’re an adult…well, you saw Wen Qing!”

“Eh, she’s fine now,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully. “I feel like I missed out! It’s not fair, Jiang Cheng. I deserve a bite! I’m practically your brother! We share essential bodily organs!”

“Wei Wuxian! Don’t talk about that!”

“Bite me and I’ll stop.”

“I’m not biting you just to make you stop being annoying –”

2 – Jin Zixun

“What are you doing here?!” Jiang Cheng demanded. “This is an ambush! Is the Jin sect considering waging an act of war against the Jiang sect?”

Jin Zixun scowled at him. “Not against the Jiang sect,” he said haughtily. “Against the Yiling Patriarch.”

“He’s my head disciple!”

That got a confused sort of frown. “But you banished him…?”

“Rumor,” Jiang Cheng said, with dignity, the way they’d always planned. “Baseless rumor, that’s all.”

Rumor he’d never denied, and had instead implicitly encouraged so that people would leave his Jiang sect alone for a little while as he gathered up strength and resources to tell them to fuck off.

“But…” Jin Zixun hesitated. “You just – attacked him?”

Jiang Cheng glared at Wei Wuxian, still lying prone on the ground with his head in Wen Ning’s lap to elevate it and his neck bandaged but still a little red – surely the paralytic had worn off by now?

Wei Wuxian noticed him staring and gave a jaunty little wave, grinning and very clearly regretting nothing, which meant that the paralytic had worn off and he was just lying there to be comfortable while watching the fun.

Typical.

“A friendly exchange,” he said, trying to maintain his dignity. “Also? Not the Jin sect’s business. What about you? What did you want with him?”

“I want him to remove the curse he cast on me,” Jin Zixun said, and he strode forward before Jiang Cheng could stop him and kicked Wei Wuxian in the side. “You hear me, you bastard?! I want the damn thing gone this instant or else –”

3 – Wen Ning

“So this is going to be a little awkward to explain,” Jin Zixuan said, rubbing his face. He looked tired, but that was possibly a side-effect of having Jin Zixun as a cousin. “Tell me, why are my cousin’s flunkies – er, I mean, my cousin’s friends convinced that it was Wen Ning that poisoned him?”

Jiang Cheng scowled.

“No offense meant,” Jin Zixuan added, nodding politely to Wen Ning. “It’s just, you know, you’re very much not a Yu, or even a Jiang.”

“No offense taken,” Wen Ning mumbled, though to Jiang Cheng’s eyes he looked a little pleased, even if his stiff wooden face still didn’t do emotions all that well. “It’s nice not to be automatically feared.”

“It’s because Wen Ning punched Jin Zixun in the face at the same moment that I bit him,” Jiang Cheng interjected, because someone needed to answer the actual question. “And then Jin Zixun fell over and someone started shouting about corpse poison – even though he’s obviously turned purple! Purple venom, purple spider, purple lightning…what part of this thematic color scheme is not obvious?!”

“Technically, the livor mortis spots generated by corpse poison are also purple,” Wei Wuxian said, completely unhelpfully. “According to Wen Qing, it’s the lack of oxygen in the blood pooling under the skin or something, which is the same thing your mom’s poison does.”

“Do you think you’re helping?” Jiang Cheng demanded.

“No, not at all. Did I sound like I was helping? I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m going to bite you again, you little…”

“My father isn’t going to want to let Wen Ning through the door if he’s considered a possible threat,” Jin Zixuan said, wisely deciding to carry on with the conversation despite their bickering. “You know he’s been saying all those things about how dangerous the Yiling Patriarch is – this’ll just feed into that.”

“I’m not going to Lanling City without Wen Ning!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “Wen Qing made me promise! It’s his first time visiting such a big place, too!”

“I’m pretty sure Wen Qing made you promise not to leave him behind because she was worried about your well-being, not Wen Ning’s ability to be a tourist,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Doesn’t matter! I’m not leaving him, and I’m definitely not going to not attend the party, so you have to fix this!”

“I don’t know how to fix this –”

Wen Ning coughed lightly. “Uh,” he said. “Jin-gongzi…would your father let me in if I wasn’t a threat? Say, if I was unconscious?”

A moment of silence.

“…does venom work even on fierce corpses?”

“Of course it does,” Jiang Cheng said irritably. “It wouldn’t be much of a defense mechanism for a cultivator if it didn’t.”

4 – Jin Guangshan

“I didn’t mean to!” Jiang Cheng said, his hands over his mouth. “I really didn’t mean to! It’s Wei Wuxian’s fault!”

“How is this my fault?!” Wei Wuxian asked. He looked amused, which was never a good sign, and even less so given the extreme crisis of the situation. “I wasn’t even in the room.”

“You encouraged me to keep biting people as a solution to everything!” Jiang Cheng hissed. “It got me in the mood. I wasn’t thinking!”

He looked down at the unconscious (and swiftly purpling) Jin Guangshan and grimaced. There was no convenient Wen Ning to put the blame on this time: it had been just the two of them, Jin Guangshan and Jiang Cheng, alone in a room together. Jin Guangshan had wanted to have words with him, sect leader to sect leader, which mostly meant that he wanted to throw his weight and seniority around to try to brow-beat Jiang Cheng into doing what he wanted, except that wasn’t going to work because Jiang Cheng was prepared, okay, he’d worked so long and so hard to try to build up the Jiang sect until it could resist Jin sect pressure.

And he’d probably just ruined everything.

“He has legitimate grounds to declare war against us now,” Jiang Cheng said miserably. “Or maybe to demand that we hand over that stupid Tiger Seal he keeps bugging you about as reparations, or in order to keep him from declaring war…”

“We can’t let him have it,” Wei Wuxian said at once. “It’s far too dangerous. I’d destroy it, first.”

“But then he’d still have a reason to strike against us…”

There was the soft sound of someone clearing their throat, and at first Jiang Cheng thought it was Wen Ning but when he looked up it was Jin Guangyao, instead. He looked the same as always, gentle and personable and smiling, which struck Jiang Cheng as being unaccountably weird for some reason that he couldn’t figure out until he remembered that the man’s father was currently lying on the ground being poisoned and maybe Jin Guangyao shouldn’t be smiling so much.

“If you don’t mind,” Jin Guangyao said, “I might have a suggestion that would get rid of that problem…”

5 – Wen Qing

“…and long story short, Jin Guangyao is going to run Lanling Jin until Jin Zixuan is done having kids, which may be never based on the soppy looks he and my shijie keep exchanging, and we all have the Jin sect’s blessing to move back into the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian concluded. “All’s well that ends well, right, Jiang Cheng?”

Jiang Cheng crossed his arms and glared, admitting nothing.

“I’ll be happy to move anywhere that has decent food,” Wen Qing remarked. “This damn place won’t even grow radishes properly, and it’s Yiling; the radishes should be practically growing themselves.”

“I’ve arranged for some farmland for your people,” Jiang Cheng said, because practicalities he could do. “There’s still lots left over from before the war, lying fallow, and some of the places are medicinal herb fields – we need people with cultivation to tend to those, so I figured that might work for you. You’d have half regular farmland, to make sure you can grow whatever food you feel you need to be comfortable, and the other half, the herbs, can be sold to the Jiang sect at profit.”

“That sounds good,” Wen Qing said.

“Especially since they’re medicinal herb plants,” Wei Wuxian chimed in. “You could stock up on medicines you need!”

“A lot of medicines have to be obtained through trade, you utter nincompoop! I can’t make medicine just using what a single medicinal herb field will generate!”

Jiang Cheng nodded approvingly, thinking to himself that at least there was someone else in the world who understood exactly how aggravating it was to have to deal with Wei Wuxian’s unbridled and illogical optimism on a regular basis.

“And as for you,” Wen Qing said, turning to Jiang Cheng, who blinked owlishly at her. “Don’t think I missed the part of that story about how biting people is a sign of affection!”

“It’s – what?! No, you don’t – that’s when we’re children– it’s –”

Wei Wuxian started cackling.

[estherdedlock]

Taking a break from my recent literary and aesthetic obsessions to reflect upon what happened on the set of Alec Baldwin’s movie.

Anyone who started following me recently won’t know that I was a sort of proto-fan of Supernatural. I actually joined Tumblr because I was so unexpectedly emotional about the series finale last year that I just needed to write something about it, somewhere.

Now, Dean was always my favorite character. I still carry a little torch for both him and Jensen Ackles for bringing Dean to life and for putting so much work into that role and that show for such a long time that it was literally over a third of his own life. 

I’ve seen some...I’m going to call it “pushback” against fans expressing concern for Jensen or relief that he wasn’t involved in the shooting. Apparently, no one with their head screwed on straight, or any sort of moral compass, would be able to spare a thought for anyone except Halyna Hutchins.

If a friend told you that someone had died in a horrible accident at their job, wouldn’t you ask, “Are you okay?” or “How are you doing?” That doesn’t erase the person who died or the tragedy of their death. It’s just a very natural acknowledgment that a terrible event casts a wide shadow, sometimes even on people who had nothing to do with it. And the fact is, Jensen didn’t have “nothing” to do with it -- Halyna was someone he worked with and respected and this kind of death in that business is so uncommon that it must be very hard to grapple with. No one expects their co-workers to be shot dead at the office, so to speak.

I haven’t seen anyone suggest that Jensen’s well-being matters more than Halyna Hutchins’ life and I’m sure that Jensen’s fans do think it’s an awful tragedy that a talented woman with so much to offer was killed in such a senseless way. But they are also Jensen’s fans, some of whom have been carrying their own torches for him since he was a teenager on Days of Our Lives. It would be odd for his fans not to care about how he was doing and not to be relieved that he wasn’t hurt, or the one holding the gun.

I’ll readily admit that fans sometimes go overboard in their infatuation, and at times I’ve been guilty of that myself. "Loving” a person who’s basically a stranger is somewhat puzzling. But I’m equally mystified by this reverse attitude, that a famous person deserves zero concern and that expressing any sympathy for them is selfish or shallow: people putting on a melodramatic display of caring  to...I don’t know what. Out-fan each other? Prove their devotion?

I may not know Jensen Ackles but I’ve respected and been fond of him---and I guess you could say I’ve loved him a little---for more than ten years. And because of that, I feel no shame in saying that I am glad he wasn’t shot. I am glad he wasn’t holding the gun. And I do hope he’s doing okay.

[soullesscoffee]

i think; therefore i am || part one

{ fem! witch reader x poly!the lost boys }

|| part two ||

part rating: teen

word count: 20716 (i am so sorry)

part summary: a nomadic witch running from her dark past (reader) finds her place after travelling the states on the shores of santa carla. in a way to make money she sets up a booth on the bustling boardwalk where she gives a few readings to a couple interesting characters for some loose change. this night she discovers she isn’t the only supernatural being.

warnings: mature language, mind manipulation, violence, use of tobacco, a cute familiar, nightmares, allusions to being burned alive, witch trials, hints to major character death, visions, and the lost boys being violent (mainly david.), this has not been proof read it has merely been skimmed.

“I promise I will be good. Please mother!” You yell towards the cloaked woman who looked at you with a disdained look on features. Features you once found comforting and like home turned on you in an instant. Those soft features are now rigid and gaunt from stress and aging, but the worse link to all the features was the cobalt blue eyes. Eyes that reflected the moon so sharply that it was almost mirrored. Eyes so sharp and focused as your mother shook her in disappointment, “No, you won’t,” her words were forthright showing no emotion behind it. How did someone who you called your mother betray you and not even take a second glance? “No, no! Wait! No, I promise!” You start to trash against the rope that is wrapped around your body, confining you to a large wooden pole. Stretching your body to its breaking point as the only color you could see was red. Then it was hot, burning, seething your skin away as one of your sisters lowers a torch at your feet. Your eyes connect to the moon as your throat lashes a blood-curdling scream into the starry clear night.

Gasping for the air you shoot up from your makeshift bed, sweating coating your skin in a glossy layer. Your lungs rapidly gasp for air as they burn from your fears that have your heart racing so much it punches your ribs. A shift in the bed causes your attention to shift. Your cat, a scruffy black devon rex steals his way up the side of your bed. His head tilting before making his own way into your lap a loud purr radiating off of your pet in his best attempts to calm you. You lift a shaky hand to plop it down on the cat’s back who tenses for a quick second before stretching his paws to your chest, reminding you to breathe. A slight smile comes to your lips, “I’m fine, Finn. Really,” you sigh and rub away the hair sticking on your face from the layer of sweat on your skin. “It’s always the same nightmare.” You admit to your furry friend who makes his way to the tail end of your bed. He stretched and tipped his nose upwards as his spine curled sniffing the air as if he was trying to investigate the surrounding area. With your heart rate slowed just the slightest you pull yourself from your bed and shuffle through the hallway that leads from your bedroom to your living space in the trailer you parked on the cliff overlooking the beach. The sun was setting, casting an orange hue in your trailer, the light catchers reflecting rainbows as they twirl mindlessly from the free breeze coming through the cracked window. Peace. That was a safe haven. However, with the sun setting you realize you have taken a nap when least expected. You must’ve needed it after the first night of working on the boardwalk. Who knew reading tarot, runes, and palms to tourists would take so much energy out of you.

A sigh escapes your lips as you attempt to step around Finn to get to your closet where you pick a black outfit with an ornate shawl to help you stand out. 

“Be good and protect the home,” you kneel down to scratch Finn under his chin after you have gathered your last-minute things and open the trailer door to have it close behind you. A quiet meow echoes from behind the door and your smirk at the small goodbye from your pet. It didn’t take you long to start up your old truck with a few hits and a couple pumps for the clutch to make your way down to the boardwalk parking lot.

The night was the same as before but this time a couple of well rounded security guards started to come up to the booth later on into the evening. The wind was a bit harsher and the waves crashed in rhythm of the music that was being played on the tiny radio next to your ankle. The boardwalk was filled with all strains of life. There were well rounded individuals taking their picture perfect families for a night out to teens dressed in all black with every inch of their face covered in piercing and colored hair. You preferred that crowd. Then again it didn’t help to get money from those picture perfect families who you only give half ass readings for. When the heavy boots of the literal rounded security officers approached your booth were you snapped from your thoughts. Looking them up and down you can instantly get a feel of their energy, they were hostile and annoyed by the night already. Yet the night was still so young. 

“Excuse me, do you have a permit to be setting up your booth here?” The officer with the mustache questions shifting his weight onto one leg jutting out his hip.

“Yeah, you need a vendor permit to even set up here on the boardwalk,” the skinnier one of the couple started before picking at the cloth of your booth, studying it with a devious smirk. “You tell fortunes? Tell me how we are going to kick you off the boardwalk.” The two chuckle at the joke yet in a calm manner you stand with your hands on the ornate cloth. 

“I do tell fortunes, but not those who tend hurt others because they have a flimsy gold badge on their breast,” you start and give a rather deceiving smile as you tilt your head. “I do not have a vendor’s permit to be out here. However, I am sure you know how hard it is to make a living during these times. Surely you can give me a pass.” You suggest and the fatter one with the mustache snickered at your suggestion. The two looked at one another but as they looked back at you they were met with purple hazed eyes and fingers that were pointed at them which radiated purple energy. “Now, I hope you will listen to me,” you begin this time your voice was an octave deeper as you displayed your abilities to them. It wasn’t hard to sink into their minds and be able to control such a feeble psyche, the purple illuminating from their eyes indicated you were in. You didn’t even need to chant a hex to even get them to repeat after you, “I will not approach this vendor anymore.” They repeat and a smirk quivers on the corner of your lips, “I will not terrorize anyone who I deem… different. I will walk away now and forget I ever saw this vendor.” Once they repeat you flick your wrist the two men turn on their heels and quite literally march away to whatever other duties they have. You grumble to yourself as you sit back down pushing the skirt under you so you can sit properly on the chair. 

As you adjust your trinkets and cards on the table you can hear from afar an excited young boy's voice, “Mike! Look! It’s a fortune teller. We have to do this!”

“No Sammy, we said we would go to the concert and meet mom back at the entrance. I am not stopping for some phoney fortune teller who just reads some useless cards to tell me literally nothing.” the older voice replies back with an annoyed tone and quite ready to walk in the opposite direction. You don’t look up to give the hint you are listening, in fact you lean back in your chair starting to shuffle your tarot deck because indeed you know the two will end up before you.

“Well too bad. I came here to have fun and you’re ruining it. Live a little Mike. You’ve been grumpy all day,” pouts the young blonde, “plus I didn’t say you needed to get a reading done. i got my own money.”

“How did you get money?”

“I stole it from your wallet!” The younger one laughs and charges his way over to the booth and you make eye contact with him, his grin was wide and full of innocence. Blue eyes that were striking amongst the moonlight, they glimmered with hope and curiosity. “Dammit Sam!” the older one whom you assumed to be the brother charges behind. “Hi, how can I help you today?” You asks in your kindest customer service voice. The young boy holds out the ten dollar bill, “I would like a reading if I could have one please. Mom always told us about her tarot card readings, but I would like one for myself.” He grins to the side as he looks over his shoulder to his older brother, a brunette with a strong build who seems to already be annoyed just standing next to this booth and his brother. “Why of course, thank you! Take a seat please.” You request and glance over to the older brother, “If you’d like a seat by all means sit.” He didn’t respond, only took a glance at you before looking away. He was skeptical and nervous. Of course he was. “Normally I don’t do readings for such young gentlemen like you, but I like you already, so I will do a general reading. Now before I get started, may I have your name?”

“Sam,”

“Nice to meet you Sam, I am Y/N. Thank you once again,” you grant a thanks and start to shuffle your cards. Normally with normal individuals the cards don’t have this much energy. You give a breathy chuckle and shuffle fiercely before a card flies from the deck. You plant it face down before looking young Sam in the eyes giving him a playful smirk at his eagerness. “You two have a lot of energy for you, that’s a good thing.” You compliment but the older brother just snickers and crosses his arm before another card flies out. It didn’t take long for the third to fly out. You align the cards, “Alright let’s see here, this card represents you. The page of cups,” You smile gingerly at the card before flipping it to show the boy. “You are filled with wonder, you love your family and have a curious nature to you.” You can see the boy is looking at the card with curious eyes. Take in the fancy man holding a golden chalice balance on one foot and his heel. He is dressed in quite jarring clothes like the boy sitting in front of you. “You also love to express yourself in ways that are creative, like your fashion, or music.” You not before hovering your hand over the next card. “This card represents the path you are on," you flip over the card to see the emperor standing sitting on his throne high and mighty, “the emperor. Now this card is quite powerful, one of my favorites. You are on the path of seeking how to defend yourself and those you love. How to become more powerful in the sense of trying to find structure and to grow in your sense of logic and practicality.” At this point you didn’t even notice the older brother has now sat down. Full attention on you and the cards. You give him a wink before turning your attention back to his younger brother, “It seems like you’re trying to find a father figure role within yourself or by others.” The boys' features soften from a grin to a saddened look, that must’ve struck a bit too close for home. “Let’s continue, shall we?” You ask and he slowly nods glancing over at his brother. You carefully flip over the last card, “This card represents your potential,” your eyes glance down at the justice card. The figure holds a sword and a scale in each hand, sitting on a chair with authority as a scarlet drape is behind them. “Justice. You know what it’s like to be wronged, treated unfairly, you will have to face the truth soon. Whatever that truth is, you have to see everything from each point of view. Going back to the Emperor, you need to be logical and work on that skill in order to find your Justice. You will generate peace and harmony to those who surround you.”

“Wow, thank you, that’s- that’s awesome,” Sam thanks you leaning back in the folded chair carefully eyeing his brother who was staring diligently at the card, studying them and seeming astounded. You lean forward and tap the table under his nose. “I can do a reading for you as well, free of charge. I like your little brother. However, I would like your name.”

The blue eyed brunette looked up at you with wide eyes, filled with wonder and trying to read your own eyes. “Michael. My name is Michael,” you smile at his name and gather the cards back into your pile. You shuffle in the bustling white noise of the  busy boardwalk. A card flies out and lands face down on the table. You shuffle until two more fall from the pile. “Alright Michael, let’s see who the cards say you are.” Your black painted fingers flip over the first card to be greeted by the figure of archangel Michael blowing on his trumpet as the words read ‘judgement’. “You are going through a new journey, a new beginning. You are starting anew. You also find comfort in sharing your struggles with others who relate and you want freedom from your own troubles. Then we have,” You start flipping over the second card, “the ten of swords.” You whisper and you glance up to see his worried eyes look at the pictured body stabbed by ten swords pinned to the ground. “Don’t overthink it.” You whisper ducking your head to make eye contact with him, trying your nest to make him feel safe. “You're going to be betrayed by someone you begin to trust. The pain inflicted runs deep not because what they have done is hurtful, but because you know deep down that this marks the end of your relationship as you know it with them. You will grieve the loss of the relationship. This card is about letting go and accepting your circumstances.” There was silence between the two, you could hear a pin drop if one was to.

“It’s a warning,” you say and clear your throat to ease the tension a bit. You flip over the last card to show the lovers card. “The lovers,” you smile longingly at the card, “you will be ready to establish your own beliefs and follow your heart in the end. You will find love for yourself but love will also find you. In every choice you make on your path, there is an equal amount of advantage and disadvantage, opportunity and challenge, positive and negative. I am excited for you to find your other half.” A warm smile comes to your lips but there was wary to the middle card, that card showed the journey he was going to begin was going to something dark. The clapping of a hand on someone’s back causes you to jump out of your trance. “Well gentlemen, I hope you got the answers you two were looking for. Thank you for stopping by, if you have any more questions or any more services, I will be here.”

The two respond with weary smiles and slowly get up from their chairs with soft thanks as they continue to make their way down the boardwalk. A twinkle of a smile was left on your lips as you watched them walk away. 

Hours later you find yourself with a tip jar that is half full and a bag that contained crumpled bills that were stale and some damp. A sigh leaves your lips as you clean up the station, cleaning up the scrying orb in its case and the tip jar in the bag full of bills. Just before you started to take down your sign you saw four shadows cascade from behind you. A low hum left your lips and you turned on your heel to see four men standing in front of you. Quite young looking, dressed in all black, a couple more than the others. A small smile peaked your lips. “How can I help you gentlemen?” You ask the stoic figures as they stare down at you, purely interested and emitting a strange energy. They’re energy was really strange but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

“Well we were seeing if it wasn’t too late to get a couple of readings,” the one with the spiked platinum blonde hair responds. His head tilts as he looks into your eyes. For a second you had to look away from the piercing blue eyes because you felt your head go dizzy. 

“Of course, what are you looking for? I do tarot, palms, and even runes.” You inform as your make your way to your side of the booth. Your folding chair creaking as you sit on it, your posture upright and alert. 

“Well, Marko? Which one do you want? You begged to come over here before they closed.” The platinum spoke up again, you tried to get a read on him, by his upright body language he seemed to be the leader of the little posse. Though you were new to the boardwalk you never really saw them around. How did you miss them? Granted you were new to town, but only by a few weeks.

“I’ll go with a palm reading if it means the cutie gets to hold my hand.” The one name Marko pipes with a chuckle from his peers. You can only roll your eyes playfully to play along, “Well sit down, palm readings start at $10 for that comment.” You tease the curly haired man who skipped to your hair and held out his hands with a snicker following. The fingerless gloves covered most of his palm so you nod your head towards his hands, “May I?” You ask before he responds with a nod and cheesy grin. As you started to slip off his hands your eyes peered over his head to watch his friends behind him. You take in their appearances. The platinum blonde was starting to light a cigarette. The other wild haired blonde was walking forward to admire the trinkets on your booth. While the tall brunette was giving you a cold stare as he watched you take off his friends gloves. Each of them donned a single earring and a jacket that was different to their individuality. You clear your throat and look at Marko, “It is nice to meet you Marko. I hope you find this reading useful and beneficial to you for the future.” You start as you take his cool hand into yours. Overlapping his hand with yours you didn’t mind the cold hands, or think much about it, the night was quite chilly.

You roll your shoulders back and roll your neck to relax. As you did a shock was sent through your nerves and you gasped sharply. As did Marko who received the same energy suddenly, causing a pained groan to leave his throat. The energy surges up to your neck causing you to close your eyes tightly. A vision. Pain. Darkness. Betrayal. You can see through Marko’s eyes. He was in pain and bleeding everywhere. There were inhuman screeches all around him; his friends jolted around in him in disturbance and rage. Then you realized they were hanging upside down. Their faces looked like nothing that they did now. Features were contorted, eyes were bloodshot and yellow, and teeth sharp. Just as your vision ended you felt a stabbing in your chest just like the object in Marko’s chest. A pained yell left your throat. There was an echo of Marko yelling out in pain and incoherent yells of the boys behind him. 

You shot Marko away from you with shadows of purple energy following him. The chair shot about six feet from under him and Marko rolled to a stop with the wild blonde following after him in concern. 

“What the hell was that?!” The leader booms rushing to your table, his hands grasping the table with a crushing grip. You could hear it crack as you try to catch your breath. The pain was unbearable. “What the hell are you?!” He interrogates again with a sharp tone. This time he threw the table to the side effortlessly. You gasp and stand in response. Your hands fly up in a contorted shape with purple shadows lingers around your fingers. The leader was stuck in his palace, grunting and struggling against your will. Pants leave your parted lips, brows furrowed and pained as you hold back the leader. Exposing your power.

The three other men kneel around their curly haired friend. Your eyes flicker to them, “There is one thing I can’t stand about vampires,” you croak, holding the leader in his place bringing him as you walk closer to the boys. The look on their faces when you announce your knowledge of their supernatural being, now that look was priceless. “They don’t know how to control their temper.” You choke out as purple energy hazed over your eyes. Their eyes widened at the energy around their leader and the shine from your eyes. All of them scramble to their feet. 

The brunette was first to act and you were faster to stop him mid run. He was now frozen under your spell. Energy outlining his shape as he looked around frantically. You wipe your hand causing him to fly straight through the railing and far out into the ocean with a purple orb pushing straight into his chest. Then with another flick of your wrist the leader went flying right after the brunette with another orb following to make him go further. Your purple eyes scanned towards the two blondes who looked hostile yet intimidated. Before they could even take a step you waved your arms and contorted hands in front of you, to each of their bodies, with a cross of your arms the two slam into one another with a crushing thud. You push the energy out with your arms and hands and the two blondes went flying far out into the ocean following their peers with purple orbs pushing into their chests. 

You were left there on the dark boardwalk, cascaded under orange street lamps, panting with purple shadows flowing around your eyes and glowing in your eyes. Your adrenaline pumping through your veins caused your breathing to become ragged. It took a beat for your breathing to return to normal. You slid your stance back to normal to show your calming nature. Your hands return to your sides no longer casting purple energy and your eyes are their normal color but still widened in fear. Behind you was your booth table broken in half, your items thrown all about wildly from the wind, and your scrying orb shattered near your feet. Dollar bills flying wildly wherever the ocean breeze takes them. 

Taking one last deep breath you tilt your head out towards the crashing onyx waves. The humid breeze thrashing your clothing all about. You press a clammy palm to your forehead as you curse quietly to yourself, “Shit.”

a/n: this is the first part of a series that i have been writing on and off for the past month. i’ve always wanted to incorporate a witch into the lost boys because it would be so interesting! this will be sort of slow burn poly!the lost boys kind of vibe. please let me know if you’d like more of this series. thank you so much for reading!! 🖤🖤🖤

[peekbackstage]

The following is a summary of a conversation that occurred on Clubhouse a few weeks ago with a Chinese film/tv director (hereafter referred to as "CD".) We were in a room that was discussing the challenges the LGBTQ community faces in China. During the course of the discussion, one of the speakers mentioned The Untamed as an flawed example of Chinese queer representation, which ultimately led to a larger conversation on LGBTQ in the Chinese entertainment industry, as well as LGBTQ CPs.

To begin, I'll start by summarizing the discussion on The Untamed, as that was more or less what kicked off everything. One of the speakers asked the rest of the speakers on stage if anyone else had watched The Untamed, and expressed that they felt a little uncomfortable with the hype around the show, as they said that it failed to truly represent the contents of MDZS due to the fact that the Wangxian relationship was marketed as a "socialist brotherhood." Largely, this speaker believed that the director and the cast were trying to erase the queerness of the source material as they had not seen the BTS videos.

CD explained to the speaker that the only way they were able to actually get the show aired was by marketing it as a socialist brotherhood. It was then explained to the original speaker that The Untamed actually shot Wangxian with full respect to the source material. They were told about the BTS that showed how the directors and the cast often discussed Wangxian as a romantic relationship and not as a socialist brotherhood. This appeased the speaker and made them feel much better when it was also pointed out the whole fact that the production team left in the line about Lan Wangji being Wei Wuxian's zhi ji. CD mentioned that the whole rumor about socialist brotherhood being potentially considered for censorship is not just a rumor. This is actually something that is being discussed, which filmmakers are concerned about given the projects in the pipeline.

As a result of the conversation shifting to entertainment, CD then explained the following things:

There are actually quite a number of LGBTQ actors who are actively working in the Chinese entertainment industry, some of whom are actually quite well known. The industry is aware of who they are because while these actors will hide their sexuality from the public, they do not always hide it to the people who they work with. So essentially, these are the sort of things that everyone knows about but doesn’t share with the general public. CD stated that he would not answer any questions outing any actors, though stated he has worked with a number of gay closeted actors.

CD himself had a boyfriend while he was working as a director and was out to his colleagues. People in entertainment treated him with respect despite knowing his sexuality. He stated, “Even if they can’t accept my sexuality, they can still accept me as a person.” 

He also stated that when people in the industry work with gay actors, they may know that the actor is gay and is generally fine with it so long as the actor does not come out to the public. 

When asked specifically about LGBTQ CPs, such as the Guardian or Addicted CP, CD informed us that in the case of LGBTQ CPs, management companies are often “warned” about the popularity of the CP. (He did not clarify exactly when they would be warned, but most likely it would be after a show’s promotional period ends.) He also stated that companies are usually told to break such CPs because of their popularity. He did not go into further detail beyond that, but did state that the parties in a CP won’t be allowed to have as many activities or do things together in the future.

Other takeaways from the conversation included the fact that while some of the Chinese men on stage were out to their parents, largely it was a don’t-ask-don’t-tell arrangement. Overwhelmingly, their parents did not seem to be very supportive of their sexualities, which is why most of the men on stage were closeted. Some of them even stated that they felt they would one day be forced to marry a woman because of promises made to their family.

As a whole, the speakers felt that the generation born after 95 is much more accepting of the LGBTQ community as a whole, so there seems to be a lot of belief in GenZ.

On the topic of gay marriage, the speakers stated that generally, gay couples don’t have ceremonies or get married because they can’t actually get married, but in some places there are certain rights that LGBTQ couples can now enjoy. But, overwhelmingly, gay marriage ceremonies are not something that really happen in China. 

A note regarding bisexuality in Asia, as there were a number of speakers who spoke Chinese who were located in various parts of Asia:

Bisexual members of the LGBTQ community on stage felt like they had very little support from the Asian gay communities in particular, because of rampant biphobia often ends up with members of the gay community who try to invalidate their bisexuality. Many of the speakers expressed how their gay friends often would suggest that because they’ve slept with a member of the same sex, then they must be gay, and try to dissuade them from being bisexual. One bisexual woman stated that she was in the closet to her lesbian friends about her bisexuality because she feared that she would be ostracized and that she would lose her friends. (Apparently, biphobia is a really huge problem in Asia as a whole.) She also stated she had no friends with whom she could be out to, which was really sad. 

In general, the conversation was multifaceted and very personal in many ways, with many members of the LGBTQ community speaking about their personal experiences and the challenges they experienced.

I shared this summary of this Clubhouse conversation as I felt it would be informative. There were about 100 people in the room, so I don’t think sharing this conversation is somehow a breach of privacy. 

For those of you who read the above and have questions about a specific CP or BJYX in particular, please do not send them to me. I will not answer any questions about specific CPs or extremely specific asks that may identify a CP. 

[startanewdream]

traitor

For @sweeethinny, who prompted for "8. You’re upset one night, and I need you to know that I’m here for you, and I’m kissing your forehead to show I’m here for you". She asked for a fight between Harry and James, but since it wasn't working, I made him discuss with Sirius for a subject that is very sensitive for them.

Angst, canon compliant, 2k words, and set right before the Potters casted the Fidelius Charm.

'You are mad, Sirius', James declares, eyes shining with undisguised fury. 'How could you —'

'Do you think I enjoy saying this?', Sirius replies, his voice in a carried whisper, none of them wanting to wake up the baby sleeping on his crib.

'It seems so if you are suggesting it'.

'I am not suggesting, I’m being honest here, James. There is a traitor between us'.

James shivers as it always happens when someone mentions that word. He hates it more than any other.

Traitor.

It's never really said out loud. It's whispered in fear, it's written in the eyes of every member of the Order he has seen lately, as few as they are, mistrust as they consider each other, as they look around and wonder who it might be.

Someone is betraying them.

It's not bad luck that they have been having lately, their numbers reducing slowly but consistently with information that only the Order should know. Someone has been spilling their secrets to the other side, to Voldemort.

They are losing this war because there is a traitor between them and it's becoming more obvious that the traitor is someone James has known most of his life.

But he can't accept it. Not after the last ten years. Not after the Marauders.

'It is not Remus', he insists, dragging Sirius outside Harry's room. 'It can't be'.

'Why not? He has been spending too much time away, he doesn't look like himself —'

'Of course he doesn't! You know what he has been doing'.

'Do I? Do you? Because he hasn't told us'.

‘We know it’s something to do with werewolves — but some things are classified, no one knows everything that’s going on —’

‘That only started recently’, Sirius reminds him, his voice insistent. ‘Before that, he knew about Dorcas and the Prewett and Dearborn —’

‘Same as we did’.

‘Well, considering Voldemort is after your son, I don’t think you are the traitor’, Sirius says sarcastically. ‘Or do you think I might be?’

‘Never’, James says easily, not an ounce of doubt in his voice. ‘But that’s it, Padfoot. I know you. I know Moony. I know Wormtail. I would give my life for any of you in a blink, and I can’t believe —’

‘There is a traitor, James’, Sirius cuts him. ‘And it’s one of the Marauders. It’s not me. It’s not you. It can’t be Peter, he would never have the heart for it. There is only one left’.

‘You are wrong, Sirius. I refuse to believe this is true’.

‘Just admit out loud there is a traitor, James’. Sirius grabs him by the shoulder, and James sees the tears in his grey eyes, all filled with despair and anguish. He knows Sirius hates this almost as he does. ‘Say it’.

‘I can’t’.

Sirius shakes his head. ‘Your family will die because you refuse to admit someone is betraying you? Are you so willing to risk Lily? Your infant son?’

‘Fuck you, Sirius’, James curses, his voice low and dark now. ‘You know I won’t risk their lives. You know I love them’.

‘Then cast that bloody charm. Hide yourselves. And don’t tell Remus’.

‘How can you say this? How can you turn your back to him so easily?’

‘Now fuck you, James. Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I enjoy seeing you for the first time in months, seeing my godson for the first time, and having to tell you someone that used to be our best friend has changed sides?’

‘It surely seems easy’, he replies coldly. ‘Because I would never say this. I would never doubt any of you’.

‘Then you are a bloody fool! Oh, fuck it, I can’t do this. I can’t stay here and watch you kill yourself because you are just too stubborn!’

‘Then go!’, James yells, out of himself now, and he hears Harry crying in the other room. ‘We will ask someone else to be our Secret Keeper. Someone that will not have a problem sharing it with the people we trust’.

‘God, James! There is a moment to be loyal and there is a moment to be smart —’

‘It is not Remus, Sirius. I know him. There is not one single piece on his body that is evil’.

‘He is a werewolf’, Sirius replies, and now at least James sees the shame on his eyes as he throws back the word that always separated Remus from them and, yet, was what brought them together too. They changed their lives because of Remus’ condition.

‘And how many times did we support him for it? How many times did we assure him, in the boy’s dorm room, that it didn’t matter? That his place was there with us?’

‘We are not in school anymore. Real world is nothing like Hogwarts. That changes people’.

‘I know, I’m not stupid! But the friendship we forged there was true. It is true. I won’t give up on this’.

‘Then you’ll die’, Sirius says, furious once more. ‘And you’ll drag your family together because you are too loyal to believe someone is betraying you’.

And then Sirius passes by him, not looking back, and James has a mind to go after him; but Harry is still crying, so he enters his son’s room, picking him up and trying to soothe him as much as himself.

Harry sleeps eventually, but James’ pain doesn’t lessen. It won’t happen, not until this bloody war is over, and if the future of it depends upon the sleeping baby in his arms, then it’s still far away, because James won’t ever let anything happen to his son. He doesn’t care about a stupid prophecy, Harry is just a baby. He doesn’t get to be responsible for the wizarding world.

It’s James that should fix this. It’s his duty. He is a father, for Merlin’s sake, and even if he still doesn’t know what he is doing, he knows it’s his job to protect Harry from… from one of his friends.

That’s the worst thing he ever thought of.

He sits on the couch in Harry’s bedroom, in the place he watched Lily nurse Harry to sleep a hundred times before, and the tears fall quietly on his face. It’s the fear and the shame, the hate and the pain.

Someone is betraying them. They’ve moved back to Godric’s Hollow and placed his parent’s house under a dozen different protection spells all because their flat is London was attacked; it was guarded too, a new place that only a few knew about, and yet they had escaped by pure luck — five more minutes and they would have get caught in the fire.

And then it was obvious someone had leaked the information; Voldemort was there in person, hoping to kill the prophesied one, a baby that couldn’t even sit back then.

Now there is talk of the most drastic of the protections, the charm that Lily is working on to keep them away from the world, and everyone is telling him the same. Don’t trust your friends.

But he can’t not trust them. He loves them and they love him back. How could not, with everything they shared? James always wanted a bigger family; he had his parents, of course, but James had wanted brothers, someone his age that could share more of the things with him, because he had grown up loved and yet a little lonely. And he had found the companion he craved for in Sirius, Remus and Peter, the three Gryffindors with whom he was so lucky to share a dorm for seven years.

Merlin, he shared secrets with them. They broke the law together; they made the impossible when they were fifteen, all young and stupid and so bright. They trusted each other.

How can one of them ever betray him? How can he be so wrong about them?

Not Sirius, who he trusts more than his shadow, who is his brother in every way but by blood, who had looked for him when he had no family anymore; Sirius that is his best friend ever since they shared a compartment, Sirius who turned away from his family tradition and who joined James in every decision he had ever made.

Not Remus, who is the most humble of them, who they accepted with open arms and who always looked as if he didn’t believe he got to be happy, to be loved. Remus is the kindest, the most compassionate; who once a month turned into something that was not him at all, and still seemed to understand who were those animals that showed up every full moon, recognizing them for the friends they were.

Not Peter, who always needed their protection and their attention, looking as surprised as Remus that he was accepted; Peter who had always wanted to please, the first one to understand when someone had a problem and to offer comfort, who worked twice than any of the Marauders to join them in anything they wanted. Peter, who had been afraid but had not hesitated before joining the Order, because he was brave even if he didn’t believe in it sometimes.

It is not them. They are a group. The Marauders.

Mischief managed.

That kind of thing is not broken easily.

And yet Sirius is doubting and James is being forced to accept that someone is not speaking the truth, that someone actively told Voldemort how to go after each of the members of the Order until the moment they can present Voldemort with the thing he wants most…

His son. Not Harry…

‘James?’, Lily’s voice calls him softly, and a moment later she opens the door, the light from the hall illuminating the dark room.

‘In here’, he whispers, his voice rough, turning his face so she doesn’t see it. He places Harry quietly on his crib, careful not to wake him, and dries his face, watching his son sleeping. ‘I will just stay here a moment, Lily, I will —’

But he stops, because Lily is next to him, her arms around his waist as she lays her head against this shoulder.

‘Come on’, she asks, kissing his shoulder and dragging him outside. She takes him to the kitchen, making him sit at the table. ‘I made you tea’.

‘Thanks’.

She gives him a cup, standing next to him, her hands running through his hair soothingly. It makes him sleepy in a good way. Almost relaxed.

He wishes he could sleep until all of his problems were gone; or not. If that happened, someone else would have fixed them, and James doesn’t want to burden anyone else. It’s his job, as useless as he feels these days.

And yet James feels so tired.

‘I saw Sirius’, she whispers, just a little hesitating. ‘This is not what I was thinking of when I asked him to come see you’.

‘Yeah, talking about a traitor kind of kills the mood’.

‘James…’

‘I can’t do it, Lily. He says it’s Remus, that it can only be him, but it’s Moony. His favourite holiday is Easter because of the chocolate eggs, I mean, how can anyone be evil like that?’

‘I know’.

‘Or Peter, he cried when he held Harry for the first time, how was that the face of a traitor?’

‘I know’.

‘And Sirius — he hates the Dark Arts, it’s everything he stands against, it’s everything he isn’t —’

‘I know, James, I know’. She hugs him, her arms around his head, and he loses himself in the warmth of her body.

‘What do I do, Lily? How can I mistrust any of them?’

‘That I don’t know, love’, she whispers, her voice heavy too. ‘But we will need to. There can be only one Secret Keeper’.

He breaks a little apart to look her in the eyes. Lily looks sad too.

‘It’ll be Sirius’, he says, confident in this at least. Sirius would die before he ever betrayed them, and if James needs to trust someone with everything he holds the most, it will be in him, even as fear threatens to crush him. If anything happens to Sirius…

‘We will start there’, Lily says. ‘One step at a time, like we say to Harry when he is wanting to walk. Don’t lose hope, James. Please’.

He knows why she is asking this. Sometimes, especially when they have been confined together for so long, just the two of them, it feels like the only person they can count on is in each other.

James knows this is not true. They have friends. They have a family.

But for now they are alone in this house that feels more and more like a prison, and James can’t do anything but have hope that things will get better. He has faith for Lily; she has for him. That’s how they keep going even in the darkest moments.

‘Ok’, he promises, and she places a soft kiss on his forehead like he had done thousands of times before, being taller than her. It’s a kiss that speaks of reassurance and that reminds him he is not alone.

Even if one of his best friends, one of the people he loves so much, is betraying them.

‘We will be fine’, she whispers, and though he knows she is lying, he lets himself believe in it.

[emerald-chaos]

Bemine-Bucky’s 400 500?!? Follower/Birthday Weekend Sleepover!

Thank you so incredibly much for being a follower of mine. When I started this blog and began writing again, I never expected to have so many people interested in what I post. Some of you have genuinely become such good friends of mine, I’ve found new writers whom I absolutely adore and look up to, and I’ve found something that feels fun to do again.

For this sleepover I simply couldn’t help myself and I decided to make it Vine themed. Some of these work well together and others I made fit for the sake of the things I wanted to do lmao so don’t come for me too hard! Vine was such a power house back in its day, and while there are some very iconic tik toks, I wanted to pay homage to our fallen hero. I’ve linked each vine to its respective emoji, that way if you haven’t heard of the vine or just want a refresher you can enjoy it!

Anyone can participate! Anons are welcomed as well. All I ask is that you send me either the corresponding emoji or vine that goes with which game/conversation you’d like to participate in! If none of these tickle your fancy, feel free to simply talk about whatever the hell you want or send in some requests and I’ll try to get to what I can 😊 (because it’s my show, not yours).

This sleepover will begin on midnight Central Standard Time of Friday July 9th and carry over until Monday July 12th at 11:59pm Central Standard Time. But more than likely I’ll still continue to answer if people still want to send stuff in

Feel free to send multiple asks - you won’t be a bother at all! I hope you all enjoy my stupid little idea and please know I love you all so incredibly much and am so fuckin grateful for you 💖. Under the read more are the things we can chat about!

⛓Don’t kinkshame me. Kinkshaming is my kink. - Interested to know what I think about a kink? Send it in and I’ll rate it using this scale! (I won’t actually kimkshame you, no worries!)

go away | no | rather not | I dunno | I guess | sure | yes | FUCK yes | oh god you don’t even know | right here, right now

⚠️Road work ahead? Uh, yeah. I sure hope it does. - Curious about what I have cooked up in my wips? Now is your time to ask! I will post a blurb, quote, portion, or working title of something I’ve got cooking up!

🐓Look at all those chickens! - Ask me for a picture of my dog, or better yet, share a picture of your pet with me!

🛹So no head? - FMK (anything goes…I know I will regret saying that)

👬And they were roommates! Oh my god they were roommates. - Pick an AU and a character to go along with it and I’ll write you a drabble! Now is your time to send in any request you’ve been itching to see. (I will try my hand at basically any AU/trope and I write for most C Evans & Seb Stan characters, but I’d be willing to branch out to other marvel characters!)

Here are a few prompt lists if you need help

📖I’m Jared I’m 19 and I never fuckin learned how to read - Send me a fic you want me to read! It can be yours or just one you’re a fan of. You could also ask me for a fic rec and I’ll send you one from my list!

🎭When there’s too much drama at school all you gotta do is walk awayeyayye - Having problems you wanna talk about? Lay it on me and I’ll be here to listen or I can give you some advice if you want it❤️

💞I love you bitch. I ain’t gon never stop loving you, bitch. - Need some positivity today? Let me HYPE YOU UP.

🚔This is the comedy police, the jokes too funny! - Send a meme or request a meme! I will also share jokes, videos, tik toks, or suggestions of things I like/find funny!

👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨I really do love working here, it’s just, we all have a lot of laughs. - Since we get along so well, ask me to cast my mutuals! Anything goes - characters, shows, vines, tik toks, foods, and more. You can also use this one for would you rather, ships, and other fun games!

💁🏻‍♂️What the fuck is up Kyle? - What did you say dude?? Tell me about yourself and I’ll ship you with a character. Or if you want, tell me who you ship me with!

⛪️I want a church girl who go to church, and read her bible - Interested in a curated playlist? Give me an idea and i'll try to come up with a mini playlist for you! Whether it’s a character or tell me about yourself and I’ll try to come up with something maybe you would like.

Tagging some mutuals who may be interested 🥰

@sunshinebuckybarnes @thanksforallthesushi @wastingmylifeonbritishtv @coffeebucko @babycap @blackberrybucky @belladonnabarnes @clints-lucky-arrow @electricbarnes @mischievous-barnes @buckybarneschokeme @buckys-blue-eyes @vanillanaps @lokiscollar @babyboibucky @fvryroads @xxindiglow @suchababie @divine-mistake @theyoutubedork @ritesofreverie @sableseb @buckycuddlebuddy @bibbidibobbidibucky @darlingsteve @lookiamtrying @sweeterthanthis @msmarvelwrites @navybrat817 @animehearteyes

[bumblingbunny]

Murder Mystery Results

Hey guys! I have finally put together the results from the poll and it’s led me to two different murder mystery ideas:

Idea 1

Years ago, a massacre occurred at a certain remote manor house. Since then, anyone who’s tried to stay there has claimed that it’s haunted. Skip to the present day, a group has been assembled to make a documentary on the history of the house and it’s hauntings. This group of strangers is made up of psychics, mediums, ghost hunters and the small tech crew tasked with filming it. However, things immediately don’t seem right with the producer never showing up. Then the murders start.

This idea would follow a single main character designed by the audience, and would feature some spooky elements along with voting for the big story moments.

Idea 2

A little less fleshed out, but this idea focuses on a cast made up of strangers and small friend groups, all of whom have gather at a ski resort to enjoy the winter weather. However a blizzard blow through trapping them there - and it doesn’t take long for the murder to seize this opportunity. This story would loop through the days, with each one following a different character. As for spooky elements, I think there would be a local legend for the characters to learn about. I still need to figure out how’d I do the voting moments for this one, so that they’re mixed throughout the story and not just during the first loop.

For now, I think I’m going to try work on idea 1. It’s a little easier to fit in certain elements, and my ideas for it are more defined at the moment. (However if you guys prefer idea 2, leave me a comment to let me know!)

Also, I WILL be making a perchance random generator to share soon! :D Just need to find the time and remind myself how to do it. It will also be featuring some awesome ideas from ninnin, Jex, The Magistra, SunshineNinja and a couple of nonnies!

Finally, I know I say it a lot, but I really appreciate everyone who took a moment to vote. I had so much fun and have some great ideas to play around with now! If you’d like to see the breakdown of votes, as well as my thoughts, you can find that all under the cut.

1. Which isolation location should this story take place in? 

Haunted Mansion: 12

Snowed-in Ski Resort: 11

Remote Manor House: 10

Closed-Down Summer Camp: 10

Space/Ship: 3

Island: 2

New Suggestions: Abandoned Cabin, Abandoned City, Cruise Ship

This turned out a lot closer than I thought it would! About halfway through the voting only the Haunted Mansion and Remote Manor House had a significant amount of votes. The Ski Resort and Summer Camp only started gaining votes after I originally came up with the idea of the Haunted Manor House full of Mediums and Ghost Hunters - so I wanted to come up with another idea using one of them.

Also I LOVE the ideas you guys suggested! They’re so good!!

2. How Should the characters know each other?

Strangers: 20

Small Friend Groups: 11

Work/Club members: 8

Family members: 7

New Suggestions: All know the host or guest of honor, “Strangers” with a secret connection, Strangers brought together for an internet or UrbEx meetup, a mix of Strangers and friend/family groups

A group of strangers was the clear winner here with a couple variations on it offered. Am I using one of them for my plans? Who knows? You’ll have to wait and see! :)

3. How should the story be told?

Story follows a main character designed by the readers: 14

Days repeat with each loop focusing on a different character: 14

Linear storytelling focusing on wherever the action is: 10

Story skips between 2 timelines: 9

Days repeat with events changing each time: 9

Story is told in reverse or with the days mixed up: 3

My favorite two options won! Which doesn’t make choosing any easier... The main character one was in the lead at the start though, so my first idea was based on that and I fit the characters one into the second idea.

4. How MUCH murder should there be?

Somewhere around 2-4 spread throughout the story: 20

The murderer is trying/succeeding at killing everyone: 16

A single murder that the story focuses on: 7

New Suggestions: Dealer’s choice, Anything can happen! Is it the murderer or the characters making dumb choices? Who knows?

Look at all of that murder. You guys are so chaotic - I love it. :)

5. How happy should the ending be? (From As Happy as Possible to Break Our Hearts)

Nice and balanced results! Although I love that there are more votes for break our hearts than as happy as possible.

6. How do you feel about supernatural elements?

Maybe a little would be fun: 15

Make everything spooky: 14

No thanks: 7

New Suggestion: A previous rumor or haunting adds to the chaos and causes characters to make stupid decisions

Perfect results for the spooky season! I promise though that this won’t interfere with the clues or trying to figure out the murderer. I’ve been burned before with a “it can only be magic” solution - it’s so disappointing after you invest hours into a story.

7. Would you be interested in having audience interaction with polls to decide story elements?

Only for big story moments: 29

Regular polls every couple of days: 9

No thanks: 3

I was leaning towards voting for only big story moments, so I’m glad everyone seems to agree with it. One day I’d love to try the regular polls, but it’s a lot more work.

OTHER SUGGESTIONS:

“POSSIBLY allowing your audience to give you their OCs to use in the cast. It might be easier to populate the story and afford you an organically diverse set of characters.”

I would love this so much - everyone makes such pretty and unique sims and I always love getting them! However, using other people’s sims does add some pressure to get things done, which has sometimes stopped me from actually doing them. So at least for the first story, I’ll probably stick to just sims that I make. If I actually manage to finish it though, I’d be willing to try using audience OC’s for the second one!

“The cast should be varied in age”

Absolutely. The only thing I’m trying to figure out is what’s the minimum age a character should be. There’s not going to be any children, but I might allow older teens or just have the characters 18 or older. For some reason the idea of teens in this kind of situation doesn’t feel right to me - although a story focused on teens in a remote boarding school could be really fun.

A vote on whether the story is about Vanilla or Berry sims

I was originally thinking of making this story vanilla, but if enough people are interested in berry I could change that. Would you guys like to vote on this? It could be part of the main character creation poll.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #153: Miyamoto Musashi

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re creating the ultimate wandering swordswoman,  Shinmen Musashi-no-Kami Fujiwara no Harunobu a.k.a. Miyamoto Musashi!

This wandering samurai is an Aberrant Mind Sorcerer to wander from plane to plane and bend the world to her sword-wielding whims with her Empyrean Eye, as well as a Swords Bard, because you actually have to be good with swords too, I guess.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Ask not for whom the bell tolls.

Announcement: Today (May 10, 2021) is also the last day to suggest possible servants for the anniversary build! If you’ve already sent yours in, you’re in the running! If you haven’t, just comment and/or reblog with any Type Moon character you’d like to see a build of and they’ll be added to the list! (One per person tho)

Race and Background

Musashi’s a Human, but popping in and out of reality isn’t that ordinary so we’ll go with the variant rules for this one. Variant Humans get +1 Dexterity and Constitution, as well as one feat and one skill proficiency. Grab the Performance proficiency to turn every duel into a mindfuck, and the Dual Wielder feat to dual wield. More specifically, this gives you +1 AC while dual wielding, you can use non-light weapons to dual-wield, so longswords are totally an option if you can get the proficiency in them. You can also draw or stow two weapons in the same amount of time you’d draw one.

Like your rival Kojirou, you’re also a Mercenary Veteran, giving you proficiency in Athletics and Persuasion.

Ability Scores

You’re really good with a sword, but that comes from technique, not brute force, so make your Dexterity as high as possible. That’ll also help with the fact that you’re clearly not wearing armor. Getting into your opponent’s head metaphorically is almost as important to your fighting style as getting into it literally, so Charisma should be number 2. Your Constitution should be next so you can stomach more bowls of udon in a single go. After that is Wisdom- your Empyrean Eye won’t do anything if you can’t see what you want to cut. Your Strength isn’t bad, we just needed other stuff more, but your Intelligence is kind of wonky. Shifting around the multiverse so much means world history is not your strong suit.

Class Levels

1. Bard 1: Going with bard right off the bat gives you a better hit die to start with, as well as a more forgiving skill list. Since bards can pick any three skills to be proficient with, I’d suggest Acrobatics, Intimidation, and Perception. I don’t know what exactly rattling your swords to provoke people would count as, but now you’ve got intimidation, performance, and persuasion, so it’s probably one of those. You also get proficiency with Dexterity and Charisma saves.

As a bard, you get Bardic Inspiration, a number of d6 equal to your charisma modifier per long rest. You can give one of these dice to your allies as a bonus action, which they can use to improve one of their attack rolls, saves, or checks. 

You can also cast Spells using your Charisma. Vicious Mockery lets you get under the skin of your opponent just like the real Musashi, and Message is a neat lil walkie talkie. I assume Gudako gave you one by this point, it’d be really hard to chat with you otherwise.

You also get first level spells like Disguise Self so you can slap a big ol’ hat on your head and be completely unrecognizable, Heroism to be a hero, Detect Magic because it seems that kind of a baseline power in the nasuverse, and Bane for even more ways to insult your way to victory.

2. Bard 2: Second level bards become a Jack of All Trades, adding half your proficiency to any skill checks you aren’t already proficient in. That extra boost to survival checks will probably come in handy if you get rayshifted to the middle of nowhere again.

You also learn a Song of Rest, letting you and your party kick back a little harder on short rests, regaining an extra 1d6 hp if you use your hit dice.

Finally, you learn the spell Faerie Fire for a cheap and easy way to nullify invisibility. You’ll learn how to see through it eventually, but for now break out the light show.

3. Bard 3: Like I said before, you’re a Swords bard, giving you the Two-Weapon Fighting Style so you can add your dexterity modifier to attacks from both hands. You can also use Blade Flourishes, giving you an extra 10 feet of movement if you attack as your action. Once per turn you can also add one of three options to your attack by burning one use of Bardic Inspiration. Defense Flourish adds the die rolled to your damage and your AC for the round. Slashing Flourish deals the roll in damage to the target and any other creatures you want within 5′ of you. Mobile Flourish pushes the target and deals extra damage to them equal to the roll, and you can use your reaction to follow them.

Your Expertise doubles your proficiency bonus in Performance and Perception, so you can find enemies and goad them into fights easier.

You also learn Locate Object. It’s still not tracking down a creature, but it’s getting closer.

4. Sorcerer 1: Bouncing over to sorcerer now nets you Spells, and boy howdy do Aberrant Mind sorcerers get a lot of spells. By using your Charisma you can cast your normal spells, or your Psionic Spells, bonuses you get at certain levels. Most of those aren’t in-character, but thankfully we can swap them out as we go.

You also learn Telepathic Speech. Using a bonus action, you can speak telepathically with them for as long as you’re within Charisma Modifier miles of each other, for Sorcerer Level minutes.

Starting with your psionic spells, you get Arms of Hadar and Dissonant Whispers, but we swap out Mind Sliver for Friends. Whatever goading someone to fight is, it’s definitely a charisma check, so this will help with that. I mean this also helps since it turns the target hostile after the spell ends, but either way you get a fight.

On top of that, you get all your other spells, like Booming Blade, Blade Ward, Green-Flame Blade, and True Strike to make your swordplay even stronger. (On technicality in True Strike’s case, just attack twice) and Absorb Elements and Mage Armor for magical defenses.

Also, your spell levels do mix, so check the multiclassing table to see how much stuff you got at each level.

5. Sorcerer 2: Second level sorcerers become a Font of Magic, giving you Sorcery Points equal to your sorcerer level. You can turn spell levels into points or vice versa, but that’ll get more important in a couple levels.

You also learn Shield for more magic defense, and swap out Arms of Hadar for Comprehend Languages. Everyone in FGO speaks english for no reason anyway, so I bet everyone has this spell to begin with.

6. Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma modifier for better spells and more inspiration. You also learn the Light cantrip, and Knock. Breaking down a door barely counts as magic, but here we are.

7. Bard 5: Your bardic inspiration dice grows to d8s, and you become a Font of Inspiration, letting you regain inspiration on short rests instead of long ones. You also learn Major Image. It’ll be a while until you can summon a Nioh, at least it’ll look like you can now!

8. Bard 6: Sixth level bards can spend their action on a Countercharm, giving you and your allies advantage on saves against being frightened or charmed. More importantly, you get an Extra Attack with each attack action, which is way better than spending a whole action on some magic nonsense.

Speaking of spending an action to end magic nonsense, you can cast Dispel Magic to cut through magical effects. Raise Dead on permanent contingency is a bitch and a half to get through otherwise.

9. Sorcerer 3: Third level sorcerers learn Metamagic, ways to customize their spells using Sorcery Points. Quickened Spell lets you cast action spells as a bonus action, while Extended Spell doubles the length of time a spell remains active. Both are super useful on your buffs, but you can only have one active per spell.

For your psionic spells, replace Calm Emotions with Mind Spike for a bit of psychic damage and to let you ignore the target creature’s invisibility for up to an hour if it fails a wisdom saving throw. You also always know the target’s location if you’re on the same plane. You also get Detect Thoughts. for now. For your normal spell, Magic Weapon will help you out if your DM’s really stingy with magic items.

10. Sorcerer 4: Your spells are starting to get spicy, so let’s keep things working smoothly by grabbing War Caster this ASI. This feat gives you advantage on concentration saves, and you can cast spells while dual-wielding. On top of that, you can use spells as attacks of opportunity now! They have to be only targeting that one creature though, so Sword Burst and Darkvision won’t be super helpful. 

We’re also replacing detect thoughts with See Invisibility for a saving throw free way to track creatures down.

11. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers can use Magical Guidance to turn a sorcery point into a re-roll on a failed skill check. You also learn Fear to send less interesting opponents running, and the psionic spells Sending to boost your walkie-talkie’s range and Tongues instead of Hunger of Hadar. If you’re going to insult someone they better understand you.

12. Sorcerer 6: Sixth level aberrant minds know Psionic Sorcery, letting you spend sorcery points to cast psionic spells instead of using a spell slot. If you do so, you can ignore verbal or somatic components, as well as unconsumed material components. You also get Psychic Defenses for resistance against psychic damage and advantage against being charmed or frightened. Oh hey, it’s like countercharm but significantly better!

You can also cast Haste now, doubling your actions for up to a minute, as well as giving you advantage on dexterity saves, a +2 to AC and doubled speed. (The second action can only be used to make one attack, but still, free attack.) After the spell ends you can’t move or take actions for a round while you take an udon break to refuel.

13. Sorcerer 7: Seventh level sorcerers can use fourth level spells, like Conjure Barlgura! It’s... kind of like a Nioh, if you squint really hard. Just keep it away from the rest of the party.

You also get more psionic spells with Evards Black Tentacles and Locate Creature instead of Summon Aberration. 

14. Sorcerer 8: Use this ASI to finally bump up your Dexterity for a stronger AC and better attacks. You also gain Banishment to cut someone out of this plane of reality. (It’s temporary if they’re actually from whatever reality you’re currently in, but still.)

15. Sorcerer 9: Use your fifth level spell Skill Empowerment to make getting to your target even easier. Need to be really good at acrobatics to reach somebody? Sure, why not. You also get your last psionic spells, Rary’s Telepathic Bond for a long-term walkie-talkie, and Hold Monster in place of Telekinesis. Cutting things is so much easier when they stand still.

16. Sorcerer 10: Tenth level sorcerers get another Metamagic option. Heightened Spell gives a creature disadvantage on their first save against a spell, like Create Bonfire and Charm Monster. I’ll be honest there’s not a lot of fifth level spells that work for you, but you’re both cute and able to start fires, so I guess it works out.

17. Sorcerer 11: Eleventh level sorcerers gain a sixth level spell, and True Seeing lets you ignore any illusions, invisibility, or shapechangers you can see on your path to true swordsmanship, automatically making any saves against their deceptions.

18. Sorcerer 12: Use your last ASI to max out Dexterity for the swordiest swords and the least swordiest body possible.

19. Sorcerer 13: At the penultimate level we finally get our seventh level spell that we’ve been working so hard to reach- Plane Shift. You and up to eight creatures can move to a different plane of existence. Alternatively, you can make a spell attack against a creature, and if it hits and they fail a charisma save they have to find their way back from wherever the hell you sent them.

20. Sorcerer 14: Your capstone level makes you a Revelation in Flesh, spending a bonus action to transform yourself for up to 10 minutes. You can spend 1-4 sorcery points to activate one to four benefits: You can see invisible creatures, fly, swim and breathe underwater, or pass through inch wide gaps and escape restraints easily. Most of those...probably aren’t canon, but at least you get invisibility sight without using concentration.

Pros:

You come packing plenty of magic defenses, with a great dexterity save, advantage on mind altering effects, and the ability to tear down an enemy’s magical traps.

Seeing through invisibility and plenty of location spells makes you hard to escape, especially when you factor in plane shift to the mix. Those Empyrean Eyes aren’t just there for decoration, y’know.

Your psionic sorcery and multitude of telepathic abilities mean you can get a lot done while completely silent, which helps a lot on stealth missions. Your maxed out dexterity and JoAT certainly doesn’t hurt either.

Cons:

Gishes live and die on their concentration saves, and not starting with Sorcerer definitely hurt yours a lot. Even with advantage you’ve only got a +2 modifier. That’s going to drop spells more often than not.

Taking so many levels of sorcerer also leaves you with low hp, barely scratching past 100 by the end of the build. Your AC is very good, but when you get hit you’re going to feel it.

Focusing on dexterity and feats leaves you with a low charisma, at least by bard standards. This means you don’t have a lot of flourishes to work with, and your spells aren’t as strong as they could be. Your buffs and protection don’t really care about charisma though, so most of your kit isn’t that badly hurt from it.

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger -Part 19

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*

Masterlist with all previous chapters

*****

With Azriel double checking their plans to get into the Mortal Palace, Gwyn was free to help Nesta and Emerie in designing a training program for the Illyrian females. Most of them had clipped wings, only the youngest did not, so any training would be land-based, and there wasn't enough time for aerial combat for those who could fly anyway. Gwyn hadn't even considered them being on the front lines, but they could perhaps form an auxiliary force, the last line to break, the surprise that the rebels weren't expecting. Still, not everyone wanted to train, and not all of them could bear to fight, not when they might face fathers, husbands, brothers, sons on the other side of the battlefield. Even those who could not, or would not, fight could still be helpful though. It had been Emerie who had suggested that Madja and Velaris' healers run some medical training for those who preferred to help in that way. Nesta's eyes had darkened with rage at the thought of the grievous injuries that would undoubtedly be sustained when the fighting broke out, and Gwyn threw an arm over her shoulders, knowing that she was recalling Cassian's injuries from the last war.

"The most important thing will be on the battlefield," Gwyn mused, "The issue with our healers is that they are based at camps, so casualties can't reach them. If we can get a group of medics on the battlefield, at least trained to defend themselves if necessary, but with the key skills to keep casualties alive until they can be seen by a healer, we'll be in a much better position. Especially if those medics are female, they'll be ignored and overlooked." Nesta nodded her agreement, and Emerie suggested a few females that she knew who might be interested in such a role.

"Every Illyrian female knows some basic healing skills, but nothing that would work on a battlefield, we'll have to get word out quickly, and hope that the males don't object." Nesta grinned, 

"Oh, they won't object, not if I personally send out invitations to classes. They think I'm a witch, and they're scared shitless of me, my presence on a battlefield might hopefully convince the rebels to think twice, although, perhaps not, if they're willing to rebel against their High Lord and Lady."

"Oh they'll definitely think twice about fighting you, sweetheart," Cassian chuckled, starling all females as he strode through the open door and kissed the top of Nesta's head, she shrugged, 

"I'll just have to make them think that I'll cast a spell to cut their balls off," Cassian laughed again,

"Such a beautiful, violent female," he murmured, casting his gaze across the training plans,

"Any changes you suggest?" Gwyn asked, keen to break up the way both Nesta and Cassian had looked at each other just then,

"It's pretty good, but I'd focus a little more on hand-to-hand combat, we don't have time to fully build up to swords, perhaps fighting knives would be better. They're lighter, and females are smaller, quicker, lighter than males, knives would allow them to use that to their advantage in a fight, even against a male wielding a broadsword." Gwyn noted down Cassian's suggestions, leaving the final decisions to Nesta and Emerie, it would be them, after all, who oversaw the training, Gwyn would be working with Azriel to remain one step ahead of the rebels, and the queens.

Gwyn noted the room slowly filling up, but it didn't bother her, it didn't bother her that with Amren was that dark-skinned male whom she hardly knew. She merely acknowledged his presence with a nod, her attention fixed on finishing her portion of the the plans, leaning back in her chair, and stretching. Azriel was the last to arrive, automatically making his way across to Gwyn and resting a hand on the back of her chair. She tipped her head sideways to slightly touch that hand. Azriel would never be one for public affection like Cassian and Nesta, but, like Cassian, he needed that contact, needed the contact he had been denied for so long to remind himself that she didn't hate him, that she loved him, that he was worthy of her love, had always been. Even Amren had stifled a smile at Gwyn's subtle display of affection, and Theia was practically beaming with joy at the way Azriel had relaxed at Gwyn's touch, the tension in his muscles releasing before he spoke,

"Gwyn and I have finalized a way into the Mortal Palace. We will have to go alone, and ordinarily, I wouldn't even suggest bringing her at this point in her training, but she has contacts within, and outside the Palace. She is our way in, and our way to send reports back here. We'll spell the reports, but only to one person, I can't work a spell more complicated than that." He looked to Rhys and Feyre, "Who do want me to spell it to?" Feyre shuffled in her seat,

"Rhys." Rhys made to complain, but Feyre raised a hand, "He has more experience, and will know the key things to look for, especially with reports from you, you know each other's way of working better than me, I'm still learning how to be High Lady. And," she added with a sigh, "I have to feed Nyx several times every night, I'm tired, I might miss something." Rhys sighed but nodded,

"Spell the reports to me then. When can you expect to get in?"

"We'll leave tomorrow," Gwyn answered, "There's only a few final preparations needed, Azriel can winnow us onto the continent, but we'll have to travel the rest of the way on foot, by air it'll be too visible, and to winnow any closer might set off wards, besides, some of my friends live a few miles out. We should be able to get into the Palace within a week, unless we come across something unaccounted for, I'd expect the first update about a week after that, give or take." Azriel nodded, 

"I'll only be wearing two siphons most of the time, and we won't be in full armor, the aim is to get in disguised as a rebel warrior and his wife." He paused for a moment, and Gwyn nodded, encouraging him to continue after a moment's hesitation. "Gwyn will be noticed at once as out of place," Azriel turned to Rhys, "Can you glamour her to appear Illyrian? You only need to give her wings." Still, wings were the most difficult part of that request, if he couldn't make a glamour look realistic, Gwyn had already agreed to allow them to attempt to shift her into an Illyrian body. Rhys pursed his lips,

"I can try, but I don't know if I'l be able to make them move naturally if I'm not there, the innate magic may not be enough." Gwyn knew that, but she still asked him to try, and closed her eyes at the touch of night-flecked power on her. "Just move about a bit, Gwyn, let me see if it works without me actively moving it around." She got up, walked a couple of laps on the room, threw a couple of punches at the air, turned around quickly, but her face fell at the silence around her,

"It's not working is it?"

"No, I'm sorry," Rhys muttered, "The only other way would be to shift your body into that of an Illyrian. I can definitely do that, and then reverse it when you're back, but it would involve me changing your body." He said carefully, slowly gauging her reaction

"I know." Gwyn said, her chin held high as the glamour lifted, "Az already warned me, and it's okay. I trust him, and everyone in this room," there was a moment of surprise in Rhys' eyes as he glanced towards Varian, "Even him. He has been nothing but kind and respectful, and he has already earned all of your trust, I would be foolish not to trust him as well, if all of you do, he must have proved himself several times."

"That he has," Rhys mused, and offered Feyre a questioning glance, falling silent for a moment before Feyre broke the silence, 

"We think it'll be better if I do this, I have more experience with different types of shifting, and I have shifted myself into an Illyrian form many times. I've also seen, and felt the magic's imprint, when Tamlin shifted others into different forms, Rhys has only ever shifted himself into his beast form. Gwyn nodded, altogether more comfortable with Feyre's magic, as a female, it somehow felt familiar, less alien and frightening. "This will probably tingle a bit and feel odd, but it won't hurt." Gwyn mentally braced herself, almost flinching at the tingle in her shoulders, then expanding across her whole body. She opened her eyes once the tingling had faded, she felt the same, but the moment she moved something felt wrong, different. Her balance was off, something pulling her backwards. She flexed her shoulders, and a whoosh of air alerted her to the wings now flaring out behind her. She flinched at the sound of breaking china,

"Sorry," she muttered, and wriggled the wings around a bit before figuring out how to close them. The one thing that she had expected to bother her didn't, the weight of the wings was less than she'd thought it would be, and her training had built up her muscles so that she could carry them easily without worrying about dragging them on the floor. 

"You could fly if you wanted to," Feyre said, "I've made them look clipped as that's what would make sense, but the tendons and muscles beneath are normal, and I don't expect there'll be much time for you to learn to fly anyway, but in an emergency you will be able to." Gwyn nodded, "You should get used to moving around with them, and fighting, it feels a bit different to usual, your center of balance is shifted backwards, so it just takes a bit of getting used to." 

"I'm sure it will, we have until lunch tomorrow to get ready, so hopefully I'll be re-balanced by then. It should definitely be before we reach the Palace at any rate."

*****

Gwyn had adjusted to the wings remarkably quickly, the walk to the training ring seeming to be long enough for her to figure out how her balance needed to shift. She warmed up normally, albeit a little slower than usual, but she didn't seem to have any issues, not ones that she needed Azriel's help with anyway.

"Okay, just practice unfolding and folding your wings for now, we can do something more once you're comfortable with that." Gwyn nodded, and flared out her wings, faster than before, and stumbled backwards, Azriel stifled a chuckle at her surprise, but she folded them in, then out again, and kept her balance. She kept going until she could do it while walking around, sitting down, drawing a weapon. She cursed Azriel's name soundly when he made her practice doing it while running and drawing a weapon at the same time, a wooden practice sword. Gwyn had questioned what the point was in using a practice sword, but as she clipped the corner of a wing and tripped up, rolling to regain her feet she just glared at him. "Go again," he chuckled, "Any child can do this,"

"Any child can do this," she mimicked, glaring at him, and he laughed,

"I do not sound like that," She just huffed, but did as she was told, falling several more times before she fixed her timing and drew the sword from a sheath at her side consistently without falling. The moment she was confident with that, Azriel switched the sheath to one down her spine. She could do it standing still on the first try, but the moment she started moving, her wings moved a bit, and she kept hitting them, sending her sprawling onto the floor. She groaned, but kept getting back up, slapping away Azriel's hand when he extended it, a multitude of profanities falling from her lips each time. He could barely hold back his laughter at the sight of Gwyn, usually so balanced and elegant, falling on her ass, and swearing enough to put even Cassian to shame. Still, a beautiful rosy blush was now staining her cheeks, and she was panting slightly in the sun's punishing heat. "One more." He called, and Gwyn flipped him off before taking off at a sprint, and whooping in delight when she drew her sword without incident, looking back at him and grinning with undisguised joy. "Take a break."

"No. I want to fight," she complained,

"Break. Once we start combat training we'll go until you're ready to drop, break. Now." He left no room for argument, but Gwyn still rolled her eyes as she nudged past him to get to the water he'd brought out. She'd made a hundred such gestures, but each time he couldn't help the rush of delight that washed over him that she was able to be this comfortable whilst alone with a male, let alone that male being him. She was still experimenting with the position of her wings, but stopped when she noticed Azriel's attention, muttering something about overbearing busybodies before practically bouncing up to him and demanding that they move on to combat. Azriel couldn't help but match her energy, not as she grinned and almost danced on the spot when he agreed, but he did make her walk through her patterns first, demonstrating them so that she could see what he did with his wings. He did warn her not to think too much about them though, with the muscles at the base, they would re-balance subconsciously, even though she hadn't been born with them.

As with almost everything he had ever thrown at her, Gwyn took back to fighting with surprising ease, enough that he was confident to agree to spar at the end of their training session. He moved a little slower than usual, his blows lighter than usual, giving Gwyn a little extra time to balance to parry each blow and then retaliate. She, however, did not hold back, and at times it felt like she was trying to knock Azriel's head off, and very nearly succeeded at one point, with Azriel only just dodging the blow and ducking under her blade to force her to turn. As she spun round, the momentum forced her wings out, and she struggled to balance, flaring them out further, and Azriel yelped when she smacked him across the face, having failed to step far enough back. Gwyn froze at the sound, finally regaining her balance and whirled to find Azriel taking a few steps back to a healthy distance,

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She rushed towards him, and pulled his face down, inspecting the slightly reddened skin of his cheek, and tutted to herself, "Sorry," she whispered again, and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, "There. That's better," she said, "I think we'd better call it a day there, I'm getting tired, so I'll just end up doing that again otherwise." Azriel nodded, then gently caught her wrist, turning her back towards him,

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just, I don't know," she shrugged, "I'm fine though, I'm fine," he raised an eyebrow at that, she seemed to be convincing herself more than him,

"Pre-mission nerves?"

"I guess," she sighed, "I'll be fine once we've got there."

"I want to show you something, how I always got over it." Gwyn smirked at that,

"And what would that be?" 

"Hold on," that was the only warning Gwyn got before he scooped her up and launched upwards, leaving her screaming and throwing her arms around his neck. Azriel flapped again, rising up and up and up, until Velaris was just a mosaic of lights below them, he leveled out and Gwyn whooped in delight, before smacking him on the arm,

"Asshole!" She hissed, but Azriel just chuckled and pretended to drop her, making her squeal again, and cling on to him tighter, burying her face in his neck, "I hate you," she mumbled, but still relaxed into him, and pressed another kiss against the cheek her wing had smacked, 

"Really hold on now," Azriel murmured, this time waiting until she was clinging on before offering her a cocky smirk, and falling out of the sky. A scream tore from Gwyn's throat as they fell, tumbling through the air, his wings blowing up around them as the wind rushed past, whipping Azriel's hair around his face. Quickly Gwyn's screams turned into shouts and whoops of delight, the wind tearing her hair out of her braid, sending it flying out behind her, and Azriel laughed, truly laughed, pulling her in for a kiss. He clutched her tighter against his chest, flipping over so that he could see the ground, and Gwyn screamed again as it approached,

"Pull up!" She screamed, "We're going to crash!"

"Trust me," Azriel murmured in her ear, and she trembled at his voice, almost imperceptibly arching into him at that little reminder of last night. She buried her face in Azriel's neck again, not even opening them at the rush of wind as he flapped hard, mere feet from the ground just outside the city. He circled lazily upwards, cruising over the city, and Gwyn finally opened her eyes, and smiled,

"Can we do that again?" Azriel grinned, 

"Going to keep your eyes open this time, Valkyrie?"

"Going to try and kill me again, Shadowsinger?"

"Never," he murmured, but gave no warning before folding his wings in again and plummeting towards the earth, holding Gwyn so that the wind rippled against her own newly formed wings. The look of wonder on her face as she felt the wind was unrivaled in beauty, and Azriel clutched her hands, "Do you trust me?"

"Always," she hesitated only a heartbeat before taking his hands and turning onto her belly, holding Azriel's hands in front of her, 

"Wings out," she did as he said, and he did so at the same time, the wind slowing as it caught their wings. Azriel angled towards an updraft, and Gwyn laughed with joy as she was pushed up in the air, with her wings automatically catching the breeze. She whooped again, and let Azriel guide her through Velaris' winds and currents, leaving them both wind-chilled but laughing uncontrollably when he pulled her into his chest and dove through their bedroom window. "Nest step, flying on your own." He whispered, and Gwyn shook her head disbelievingly, 

"That's a big step."

"Need me to hold your hand?" Azriel teased, and Gwyn's competitive gleam reappeared in her eyes,

"I'll be flying better than you in no time." She declared, sweeping off to the bathroom before he could respond. He chuckled to himself, still staring after the female who had made him open his heart to the world, who had seen the shadows and the person he sometimes had to be and had decided to love all of him, flaws and all. It made his heart ache with love, greater than he'd ever felt, he didn't need a mating bond, he didn't need what Rhys and Cassian had, he just needed her. He just needed Gwyn.

[sylvain-writes]

Doors Will Open (Donatello x Reader)

Rated: G

Gender Neutral Reader, pre-relationship, movie night, tenderness, cuddling, supportive brothers

You surprise Donnie with lembas bread for your Lord of the Rings movie night.

for @blancoluna

Donatello is holed up in his laboratory of mischief and oddities when you arrive at the lair bearing treats. But Mikey is there to greet you, jumping out of the Pit to graciously unload the deep tupperware of cookies from your hands. 

His eyes twinkle as he leans in to stage whisper, “You’re my favorite, know that?”

April walks up behind him with a gasp of indignation. “I’m gone five minutes!”

“But, but...” He lifts the box in his defense, “Cookies!”

“Ooh.” April’s eyes go wide and warmth floods your cheeks at their enthusiasm. She rubs her hands together with delight. “Can I grab one for the road?” You nod, of course, encouraging her to take as many as she likes. “You’re my favorite too,” she says with a giddy bounce.

Your laughter draws Raphael and Leonardo from the tunnels, and your excitement for the evening mounts. Rising to your toes hopefully, you try to capture a glimpse of Donatello behind them. The tunnel, however, is otherwise empty. Your heart sinks just a little.

Everyone gathers in the kitchen, welcoming you and trying to convince April to stay, but with each passing minute, the absence of your best friend grows harder to ignore. 

“Wheel of Time is in my bag,” you mention to Leo half-heartedly. It’s a book series he’s been begging to borrow for ages. You’re proud of yourself for remembering to bring it, and you don’t want to get distracted and forget. 

“Thanks!” Leo unlatches your messenger bag immediately, diving into a confession that only serves to prove what a nerd he is. Apparently, he sped through the Lord of the Rings this week in his excitement for the weekend movie marathon. You nod along with an amused smile. You're usually overjoyed to have the fellow bookworm to talk to, but your attention keeps drifting to the empty tunnels. 

A lull in his rambling gives you an opportunity to ask, “Is Donnie coming?” You have trouble meeting Leo's eyes, but you try your best to keep the question sounding casual and light. You don’t want Leo, Raph, Mikey, or April to feel like you don’t value their company, but you brought down supplies for Movie Night under the impression Donatello would be joining in; you don’t want to start without him.

“Oh, I’ll get that knucklehead,” Leo says, stacking the books to carry. “He probably just lost track of time.” 

Turning from Mikey's final, futile plea for April to stay, Leo heads toward his room to drop off the books, then to the workshop to gather their missing brother.

The muted sounds of tools and machinery come through the heavy door in clanks and whirrs. But Leo knows Donnie won't mind the intrusion.  He raps a knuckle against the small frosted window and gives his brother a shout. 

Donatello raises his voice over the buzz of a circular saw to ask, “Emergency?” But the sound of the blade cutting through metal continues without pause.

“No.” Leo won’t lie. He won’t test Donnie’s nerves with trickery, not even when the reveal is something his brother has been looking forward to all week. 

“Password?” Donnie counters next.

Leo screws up his face, searching his memories for the right answer. “I don’t know, dude. There’s cookies? And, like, ten hours of movies, so-”

The saw goes silent before the 'shop door opens with a snap. Leo takes a step back to give his brother room. 

Donnie’s face pops through the gap, his eyes looking unnaturally large through the magnifying lenses perched atop his beak. “What day is it?”

“Uh, Friday.”

“Y/N is here?”

Leo's exasperated answer hisses through the tunnel. "Yes." 

Donatello lets the door swing wide as he pulls off his goggles and hangs them on their hook. “Why didn’t you start with that?” he asks as he tidies up his station. His hands fly over the tables, reorganizing the space for his return. He fumbles his wrenches into their case in his rush. "How long have they been here? Why didn't anyone get me sooner?"

Leo doesn’t hide his grin, so happy to see Donnie this close to admitting his crush. “Oh, so they’re the password, huh?”

Donatello’s blush starts at his neck and rises up to his ears. “That’s not…” He gives a little huff as he rolls his tool cart to its place against the wall. “Shut up, Leo.”

Slinging an arm around Donnie's neck, Leo drags him into the hall. He grinds his knuckles over his little brother's head with a light chuckle.  Though Donnie easily squirms free, Leo knocks him with a shoulder, a tease and a mark of support. 

At first, Leo had been reticent to encourage his brother's feelings for you, but over time it's become obvious that Donnie’s affections are far from one-sided. Being what they are, that came as somewhat of a shock to him, but it was the best kind of surprise.

Donnie's lucky to have you in his life. And Leo hopes that one day soon, the two of you will get your acts together. It's about time you two admit just how happy the other makes you.

*

You're picking at the edge of the countertop, stomach in knots, when you hear the echo of footsteps draw near. Leo and Donnie enter the main living space pushing and shoving, but there's not a hint of anger on their squabble. Laughter stretches their smiles wide. 

You bite your lips together, anticipating the moment when Donatello finds you. There's become a shared second of pause when you meet, though you don't know when that began. You try to prepare yourself for it each time, but it always leaves you breathless. 

When Donatello’s eyes fall on you, his laughter peters out and his smile goes soft. Your lungs ache with the breath you've forgotten to release until Donatello breaks the spell. "I was told there would be cookies?"

You gesture to the box, hoping the slight tremor in your hand isn't obvious. "Lembas, actually." It's silly, your newly developed nervousness around him. Donnie is the person with whom you feel safest, most free to be yourself. He's your best friend in the world. 

Your crush on him shouldn't change that. But it does. It could change everything.

Donatello's eyes slide to the box and his jaw drops comically. "Are you kidding me? How did you-? Why did-?" His long strides bring him to the table before he has a chance to form a full sentence.

"It's our weekend," you say. A blush colors your cheeks as you catch your choice of phrase. "I mean, Lord of the Rings weekend. Remember?" You fiddle with the ring hanging from your neck, your fingers running back and forth over the elvish script. 

"I didn't. I do now! I didn't realize it was Friday until Leo… But Lembas!" He's probably the biggest nerd of you all.

"Go ahead." The mess of crumbs on the counter is evidence Raph and Mikey have grabbed their share. Thankfully, they left some for the rest of you. 

Leo skirts around you to take a cookie for himself while Donatello inspects his square of pastry with care. Turning it over in his hands, Donnie hums. "It smells like citrus and almond."

"There's lavender too," you supply gently. It took a few tries and a few tweaks of the recipe you found to get it just right, but you're quite proud of the end result.

"Yeah," he gives a slow nod. "And lavender. I was getting to that." He looks at you in awe. "This is really… it's so cool."

"You didn't even try it." Your racing heart switches gears from nervousness to anticipation for Donnie to have a taste.

"Oh, right." Donatello takes his first bite, follows it quickly with a second, and the cookie is gone. "Wow." Crumbs fall from his lips and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"I can make more," you offer as he reaches for another, "if you guys like them so much."

Donnie nods and drops his gaze as he seems to consider it. "...maybe you can make them here," he says finally. "With me, y'know? Show me how it's done."

Your blush returns at the suggestion and you find yourself hesitant to agree to the plan. 

Donatello's eyes blink wide and his almost pout is irresistible as always. You can't fathom why you'd give up the chance to be the one teaching Donatello something for once. 

With a leap of your heart, you give in. "Yeah, of course. We can swing by my place later and grab the stuff. Could be fun."

"Could be," he agrees quietly.

Donnie meets your eyes again and the moment of stillness between you stretches long--

Until Raphael speaks up from the couch with an exaggerated groan. "Can ya please get over here already? There's a whole mess of movies waitin' for us and you're busy yappin'."

Donatello grabs the box of cookies and rummages through the cabinet for Pop-Tarts while you make your way over to the TV. Of course, not even lembas can fill his appetite for sweet pastry. 

In the Pit, the lighting is dim. Title screen music rises and falls, drawing you into the fantasy world of Middle Earth.

Leo has taken a seat atop the back of the couch to give Raph and Mikey room on the cushions below. At the sight of your approach, Mikey scoots toward his brothers to make you a place by the armrest.

It's a comfortable fit, even for your favorite position, sitting with your legs pulled up, criss cross. But when Donnie comes in, there's no real room for him. He doesn't seem to mind. He places the plate of lembas and box of Pop-Tarts on the coffee table. Then, without hesitation, he takes a seat on the floor in front of you.

Mikey starts up the movie and the epilogue scenes cast the room in shadows and flashes of light. Donatello settles in against your legs and everyone's eyes focus on the screen.

The film plays and the temptation to reach toward Donatello increases with his every shift. Though he hasn't complained, you think he must be uncomfortable down on the floor. If nothing else, the way he rolls his shoulders probably means he's feeling stiff. 

It's dark enough, you could lay your hands on his shoulders, work the knots out of his muscles and neck, without attracting the attention of his brothers. But you don't. As you indulge yourself in fantasy, Donatello shifts once more.  He slides into position between your knees and the tails of his bandana catch on the hem of your jeans. 

You stare for a moment, unsure if you're allowed to touch. Then, Donnie leans back and smiles up at you and you could swear your heart stops. It only lasts a second before his eyes return to the screen, but it fills you with comfort, confidence, and calm.

Careful not to tug, you take the tails of his mask in hand and lay the long strips of cloth over your lap. With steady passes, the fabric runs through your fingers. It's soft and worn. Stained and fraying on the ends. The movie plays on, but as far as you're concerned there's only this. 

You twist the tails of Donnie's mask around your fingers. You tie them into loose knots, losing yourself in the quiet intimacy of having Donatello so close. 

Donnie tips his head to the side as you play, turning his body just enough that he can rest his head on your knee. 

You bend at the waist and drop your voice as quiet as it can go to avoid being overheard by the others. "You OK?"

Donatello nods, nuzzling his cheek against your knee just enough for you to notice. "It's nice," he says, and you drag the tails of his bandana through your fingers again. 

As you sit up, you spare a glance at his brothers. Raph and Leo are sitting forward, elbows on their knees, enraptured by Arwen's race on horseback. But Mikey's watching you through the corner of his eye. He gives you a small, knowing smile before turning his attention back to the screen.

When it's time to switch DVDs, everyone agrees it's time for a stretch. 

Donnie's the first one back to the Pit. And he takes it upon himself to lie across all three cushions of the couch with a lazy grin. Mikey doesn't even bother with him, ducking out to meet up with April and leaving his older brothers to fend for spots on the broken recliner and floor.

Donatello makes grabby hands as you return from the kitchen with a pair of sodas. You think he'll sit up, make some room. But to your surprise, Donatello exaggerates his sprawl. He takes the drinks and places them on the floor, then extends his hands toward you again.

You only have a second to register his request before he takes your hand in his and gently pulls you onto the couch with him. 

Cuddled up between the couch and your back, Donatello gives a little shimmy and a wistful sigh. 

Your heart is racing and you're tingling from your hands to your toes, but fitting against the curves of Donatello's bent knees and soft embrace takes no thought at all. And once you're there, you can't imagine ever wanting to leave.

*

The second Fellowship DVD comes to an end, and Donatello's breath tickles your neck, "One more?"

You shrug into the feeling of his words ghosting over your skin. "I'll fall asleep," you admit regretfully. You're so comfortable in his arms, you don't want to go home. But it's precisely that warmth and safety that are making it so hard to stay awake.

"I won't make fun of you if you snore," Donnie teases. There's soft pressure on your scalp and you're sure that's the feeling of him snuggling into your hair.

"I make no promises," Raph chimes in from the recliner. You'd long since forgotten you had company. The sound of his voice should come as a shock, should have you scrambling out of Donnie's arms. But it's only Raph, and he's picking on you the same as always. And there's a kind of approval in that -- the kind you never dreamed of receiving.

You try to shoot him a scowl, but you're grinning because you can't help it. 

*

You were right about having difficulty staying awake. The film isn't on for five minutes before your eyes drift closed.

"Are you asleep?"

"Still listening," you mumble dreamily. Donatello's arms tighten around you and his chin tucks over your head. It's enough to send you adrift into a deep and peaceful sleep.

You wake up in the morning alone but wrapped in a purple knitted blanket you recognize from Donnie's room. You pull it snug around your shoulders as you sit up to check your phone.  There's a text from your roommate and emails that can be ignored, but one notification stands out. You touch the media message from Raphael. 

Though you roll your eyes at the blurry thumbnail, your curiosity has you pressing play. The video is only 20 seconds, anyway. 

It loads immediately and the image clears. You smile at the closeup of Donatello asleep on the couch. The audio is low but you can clearly make out the snuffling rise and fall of his snores. You allow yourself a little laugh as you watch the video play through again. And you don't miss the way Raphael panned to show you and Donnie together dozing comfortably -- your limbs entangled and your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

You're unsure where you two stand and where your relationship will go, but your stomach is full of butterflies and your heart is content.

"Did you sleep OK?" Donnie asks as he comes in from the kitchen. He's brought tea and toast -- a simple but sweet gesture. 

You take a moment to enjoy the sight of him bringing you breakfast 'in bed' and tuck your phone away with a smile. "I slept great."

[reiven2017]

Delicate steel.

Summary:

Rachel wanted to go home. She just wanted to get home. The only thing that held her back were the two huge wolves outside the door, the iron lock, and the fucking fate that had clearly decided to laugh at her. As it was, everything was fine...Oh, right! She's also getting married soon. But I have no idea for whom yet.

Notes:

In general...I decided to finally finish this chapter, because what I published earlier was just a draft and it happened that I deleted the work. Ahem, ahem.

Chapter 1: 1

Chapter Text"I don't know, damn it," Damian snarled back, his lips pinched into a thin line. His patience was running dangerously red, and his annoying family never stopped asking him questions, and Damian didn't know how close he was to killing each of them. "What do you mean, you don't know, Damian?" Your eighteenth birthday is coming soon! "I'm aware of that. Damian said dryly, turning to the window and trying to ignore the circle of people gathered around him. Sometimes, in his head, he would quietly start hating them all. The boy heard his sister snort at his answer, and before she could open her mouth to say something even more irritating and irritate him, his father intervened. "Damian." Bruce called coldly — " Stephanie's right. The day of the Blood Moon is approaching, and whether you want it or not, you must find a mate. It's a tradition." — Steph smirked like the Cheshire cat. "Come on, Dad. Maybe our little Alpha likes to go to "girls". " - Damian gritted his teeth and said nothing at Jason's snide remark, hoping that if he continues to ignore them, then maybe everything will be fine?The alpha genes were already boiling in him, the wolf was growling in frustration, and Damian was ready to howl in helplessness. He hated family advice, but when it came to his marriage and finding a true mate, it didn't seem so bad to hang himself and rot in a barn somewhere. Maybe now from the outside he looked like a "little capricious Alpha" with his behavior and an offended frown, but if such a strategy would bring him the desired silence, Damian was ready to play along. Despite the fact that he was the future Alpha of the pack, the new leader, and should have been able to solve problems diplomatically, or be able to kick ass, now he would have been happy to be somewhere in the mountains. Or on another planet. He could have left at any moment, ignoring the drama of Stef and the grinning Jason, if not for the glaring eyes of his father and mother. Damian knew he was being stupid. But he did not know the answer to the question that had been nagging at him for about a year. And every day it annoyed him more and more.From the very first day of his birth, Damian was different from the other wolves. Even in the cradle, he was different. The guy turned early to become a wolf, too early for any measurements, and after the Alpha blood in him awoke with extraordinary speed and as it turned out, he is the new Alpha, which further complicated the situation since he was the youngest son and theoretically could not inherit the Alpha genes. But no, it did happen. Everyone expected that his older brother Richard, kind, cheerful and resourceful, able to talk or at least tolerate people, and most importantly already having a couple, would take the place of the leader and everyone would be happy to the point of screeching bones. How wrong they all were, and how no one expected the Alpha genes to wake up in their youngest son, the rude, silent, and insufferable Damian, known as the walking mess and without a true mate at 17. Many people only laughed when they heard that the Alpha Force appeared in the younger heirs, but when they met with Damian, not a single question remained. He was young, but the Alpha genes had awakened in him with the strength and power of a mature wolf, which gave him even more advantages in the piggy bank of oddities. His relatives got married almost from the first day of birth, his sister was already engaged, his friends were already engaged and even some children in the sandbox already wore special marks saying that they have a couple! And Damian... Damian was broken. Broken almost from the very first day of life. The day of his coming of age was approaching, and the council and the entire pack were now on edge, watching his every move and not losing the chance to slip him a wolf at every opportunity in the hope of finding the one that made him even more exasperated. During this week, he had seen so many women's faces that they were all mixed up in one mess, and he didn't even remember their names. His position in the

pack is already pretty shaky, and if he doesn't find a mate before his birthday, Damian may not be the leader. < i>Worst of all, he won't last long without a pair. "Well, look at him! He's not even listening to us!" — Stephanie fell silent again, seeking support from her father. Of course, her position doesn't weigh in the balance, and the whole pack doesn't sit on her neck and fall asleep with eternal questions that he doesn't know the answers to. Bruce sighed heavily, casting a pleading glance at his wife. He knew that it wasn't easy for his son to come to terms with his new Alpha status and his new status in the pack. Despite all the responsibilities Damian had to deal with, he was pretty good at it, but the question of his true mate was always going to be a hell of a lot harder. Talia gave him a quiet smile, putting her hand on his shoulder. "But if brother can't find a mate on his own, then we have to help him! Damian chuckled softly. If only it were that simple, but only the Gods themselves could help him. - "Dad! I know who is perfect for the role of the Moon! Christy! She is younger than my brother, but she is a beautiful and strong wolf. Christy will fit perfectly into our family! " - Steph screamed again to her father. But then Damian's patience reached the end, driving the Alpha genes in his blood, and his wolf growled inwardly at his sister. Damian didn't like that part of himself, but he was grateful for the Alpha Force now, as Stephanie immediately fell silent. "That's enough," he said, as his sister jerked behind her father, hiding her eyes in shame. "Just because she's your friend doesn't mean she's my mate, Steph. His voice, menacing and guttural, turning into a growl, echoed off the walls of the mansion, causing Steph to shudder slightly and hunch over, hiding behind her father. His emerald eyes, a little silvery, swept around the room, and when they met his mother's distressed gaze and his father's frown, he frowned sternly. Maybe tomorrow he will regret his lack of restraint, but right now the only thing he wants is to get as far away from them as possible, so as not to see himself as a leper.***Perhaps if the town of Date, in northern Switzerland, could be described in three sentences Raven would have said " Forest. A large forest. The devils of the big forest. " and it would be clear to everyone what kind of place this is. It wasn't that she was against nature, but she had lived most of her life in gray and gloomy New York, so the forest was her first shock when she moved. Her mother recently remarried after a failed marriage with Raven's father and an accident with her sister, and now they are all together, the whole friendly family decided to change their place of residence. As if they don't have enough problems. Rachel didn't listen much to her mother's speech in the front seat, plugging her ears with headphones, knowing that she was talking more for her stepfather. Ben wasn't a bad person. He joked stupidly, smiled affably and believed in a happy life, dreaming, according to him, of a large family. He didn't touch Rachel, and he didn't bother her with father-daughter chatter, so he was the best option for her and her mother, Angela. To be honest, he never bothered Rachel at all.When Ben expressed a desire to move, to give in to a quiet life, Rae was not so against it. She didn't have any friends in New York, or anywhere else, so she was neutral about the idea of moving. So she ended up in Switzerland, in the back of an elderly pickup truck, in the middle of the woods and 7 miles from the city of Data. "Rachel!" — through the wall of music, the girl heard her mother's displeased voice and quietly rolled her eyes. - "Yes? Rachel replied tonelessly, still wearing her headphones, and turned to the window. She stiffened quietly. Maybe this way they'll know she's not in the mood to talk. "Could you please put the music down, young lady? I want to talk to you. "- "Well, of course to talk, and I thought we were going to drive the ball." barely restraining the sarcastic remark that was about to fly off

her tongue, Rachel still put the headphones in her bag and raised an eyebrow at Angela questioningly. "So? — " "There's a new school waiting for you, Rachel. New acquaintances". Angela's words flowed smoothly, and her sweet smile suggested doubts, and Rachel inwardly guessed that this conversation had been planned in advance. The girl chuckled to herself. "Ben and I are well aware of your difficulties in communication and all that concerns friendship, and we are immensely grateful to you for so easily agreeing to move, but if you have a problem again, like last time..." Rachel's eyes dimmed. Her heart stopped for a moment, silent for a second, and her nails dug painfully into the soft skin of her palm. The world seemed to stop, and my lungs were on fire. So that's what it was all about. Her lips parted in a venomous grin, and Rachel gritted her teeth. Rey saw a small flicker of pain cross Angela's face, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her face lost any hint of a smile, and with a curt nod to Rachel, the woman turned away. Rey exhaled heavily, holding her breath. She leaned back in her seat, pressing herself as close to the window as she could and crouching in a corner of the darkness, only now feeling the pain in her arms. She slowly opened her hand, coldly watching the tiny drops of blood gather on the skin that had been severely pierced by her own hand, and immediately closed her hands. She didn't have the energy to look at it again, and the only thing that distracted her was the huge sign with the big black letters "Date. A place where people become one with nature.»

[cheeriecherry]

Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi} [6/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 6/9

Warnings: none, a little fluff, some suggestive themes but nothing explicit

The next few days pass both quickly and slowly. Every time you look at the clock, mere minutes have passed since the last time, but when you spend your afternoons planning alongside other pros, it’s so fast-paced you can barely keep up.

Shouta and Hizashi made true on their words, calling in personal favours and putting together a capable team of trusted heroes. You supply them with as much information as you can, about Oracle’s visions as well as how Akuma works. By the end of the week, you’ve got an ambush plan in place.

You’ll be the one luring the villain out into the open, since you’re her prime target. You also know that she won’t show herself unless she has a clear getaway, so unfortunately the street where she attacks you has to stay open to the public. But with Shouta on standby in the vicinity, there shouldn’t be any casualties.

Hizashi and a couple others will be nearby, ready to add some extra hands to the fight if necessary, but if everything goes accordingly then Akuma should be in quirk-nullifying handcuffs in under a minute. Then she’ll be brought into custody, and she’ll be out of your life for good.

Still, you’re on edge. Akuma was well known in the underground for being clever and wily. There was always the possibility that something could go awry, in any way, shape, or form. For instance, if one of your team mates got caught in her tar, the whole plan would go to shit.

You sigh deeply and lean back in your deck chair, staring up at the afternoon sky. The closer you got to your supposed death, the more you felt like you were going to fall prey to it, like Oracle said people did. It felt like fate was swallowing you up, ready to consume you whole.

You have to want to come out of this, they’d said, but you were tired. So tired. Exhausted after years and years of horrific sights and fears. You knew you didn’t want to die, but…

“Is that the same thing as wanting to live…?” you ask yourself, not expecting an answer. Would not wanting to die be enough to free you from Akuma, should she catch you? Or was everything for naught, simply because you were having a hard time? What if all you were doing was walking straight into your own death?

You pinch your eyes shut when the sun becomes too bright to bear. Maybe you should have listened to Hizashi while you’d still had the chance; turned tail and run far away from Akuma, and kept running, and running, and running, and never stopping, never living, never slowing down. Ever.

“What is life without experiences,” you mumble, “if not sadness, if not laughter, if not love…”

Running would mean you’d be alive, but not living. Death meant you would be neither. But which was the worse choice, and for whom?

You just wished you had more time-

You pause, blinking your eyes open in surprise. I’m talking as if I know I’m going to die. Have I seriously condemned myself to this fate?

You frown. There’s hope. There has to be. Even if Akuma catches me, there’s hope…

Until there isn’t.

“Shut up,” you tell yourself, in an attempt to quell your cynical inner voice.

How do I fight without hope? Keep moving forward without hope?

Tears bud behind your eyelashes, though not from the brightness of the sky. You sniffle a little, trying to blink them away, but it’s mere seconds before they’re rolling down your cheeks in tidy little streams. Your body trembles with silent sobs, and you curl yourself tighter into a ball. When was the last time you’d even felt hope?

Hell, when was the last time you’d felt happy?

You let yourself cry for a few minutes, allowing your feelings to run their course and dissipate naturally, like your therapist had suggested you do. When your breathing begins to even out, and your thoughts begin to form again, you wipe your eyes.

When did I last feel hope?

“Coming home,” you whisper, “Seeing Shouta and Hizashi in the airport. Seeing them smile. Feeling safe in their arms. Sleeping a full night beside them, without any nightmares. Having them support me, and stand by me, no matter what.”

And imagining the future the three of us could have. Teaching, loving, living. Maybe getting married? Having a family?

It dawns on you then, a blinding revelation. If you found it hard to have hope and fight for yourself, then maybe you could do it for other people. For their hopes, their lives, their families. Protect them, and stay strong for them, until you found the strength to do it for yourself.

You’d survive, you decide. You’d come out of this for Shouta and Hizashi, for their love and their light, because you knew that with them you’d find hope, and a future, and all three of you were willing to fight for it.

----

Your boyfriends arrive home on schedule, to find the dinner table set and you bringing food out to it. Both of them watch you for a moment, taking note of the skip in your step and the smile on your face.

You greet them happily when you see them in the doorway, coming over to give them both a kiss. Shouta returns his gently, which Hizashi captures you in a hug and peppers smooches all over your cheek.

“Now this is a nice treat to come home to,” the blond says, finding a seat at the table. He at least has the manners to wait until everyone else is sitting before piling food onto his plate. “What’s the occasion, sweetheart?”

You shrug and shake your head, scooping a few things onto your own dish. “No occasion. I’m just...feeling good. Better than I have in a while, actually.”

Shouta gives you one of his rare smiles. “That’s good to hear,” he says, “what changed?”

“Dunno,” you reply. “Well, sort of. Something Oracle had said got me to think.”

“Oh?”

“‘If people don’t want to live, then fate will eat them right up’.”

“They said that?” Hizashi asks around a mouthful of dinner.

“I’m paraphrasing,” you tell him. “My point is… I have a lot of shit I need to deal with, a lot of baggage I need to unpack, and two weeks isn’t enough time to do that. So until I can find the means to be strong and hopeful for me, I’ve decided that I’m going to do it for you. To protect your futures, your lives, your hearts, all of it. Even if I don’t have hope now, I know that it’ll come back. I just need to work at it, and be patient.”

By the time you finish your little tangent, Hizashi’s eyes have gotten misty, and Shouta’s have an ill-hidden glint of pride. You reach out slowly towards them, and take one of their hands in both of yours.

“I love you both so much, you know? So much. I always have. And no one is going to take that away from me.”

----

You’re staring at the ceiling, the dark, dark ceiling, as the clock ticks past two. Shouta and HIzashi are laid on either side of you, wedging you comfortably between them. They’re both fast asleep, if their even breaths and quiet snores are anything to go by. Oh, how you envied them.

Instead, though, you’re awake. Very awake, counting the tiles above you for the fourth time. Your earlier pleasant mood has all but vanished, leaving you riddled with your more common anxiety and restlessness.

Careful not to wake your boyfriends, you shimmy out of bed and sneak into the living room, where you then slip outside onto the back deck.

Your intention was to find a cozy spot and watch the city lights in the sky for a while, but instead you find a familiar hooded figure hunkered down on one of the chairs, curled up tightly and looking extremely small.

You take a seat beside them, keeping your eyes trained on them while they catch their breath. Their shoulders are stiff, and their nails are biting into their palms from being curled into such tight fists. You know they wouldn’t have sought you out if they didn’t want to talk, but you still decide not to push them into conversation.

It takes a few minutes for them to speak, breaking the comfortable silence amassed between you.

“I keep seeing people dying,” they mumble, tucking their knees closer to their chest.

“That’s how your quirk works, isn’t it?”

They nod. “Yeah, but I mean specifically next week. Every time I warn someone, it seems like there’s two more visions that need sorting.”

“It sounds tiring,” you admit. “It must be exhausting having other people’s fates in your hands.”

Oracle sighs. They push their hood off and let it flop around their shoulders, finally letting you see their mop of dark hair. They haven’t got their usual mask on tonight either, and you’re sure that you can count a couple freckles splattered across tawny cheeks.

“It is,” they tell you, “not just the mental and emotional toll, but the physical, too. I have seizures every time I have a vision, y’know? I have medication that stops them, but...it also stops the visions.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. You’re genuinely shocked that a quirk could have such an expensive side effect on someone, especially a literal kid. 

“Maybe you should take your medication-”

“Not until I have another way to help people!” Their tone is sharp, but they look abashed as soon as the words leave their mouth. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine, kid. I get it.” And you do. All throughout your life, you wanted nothing more than to do good and make a difference in people’s lives, no matter the personal cost. “But...it’s important to take care of yourself too, okay? Otherwise you’ll end up...well, like me.”

They pout at your words, and it looks like they want to make a sarcastic quip, but they decide against it and the two of you lull into silence. It lasts almost ten minutes this time, and for a minute you wonder if Oracle has fallen asleep.

But when you glance over at them, they’re staring at the dark cloudy sky.

“Is...is there any way you can move Akuma’s ambush to a more secluded area?” they ask, voice so quiet you can barely hear them. “Or close the street off?”

“I’m sorry, kid,” your shoulders fall and you cast your eyes downward. “If I could, I would. But this is the only time we know for certain where she’s gonna be. We can’t risk throwing that away. Not for my safety, not for the public’s safety.” Your voice is small and bitter when you utter your next words, “As much I hate to have that mentality, catching her now will save more people in the long run.”

You can feel Oracle’s annoyance bubbling off them, even from several feet away, and quite frankly you don’t blame them. It was an unfortunate way of thinking you’d had to adopt while you were undercover, to keep yourself from trying to save everyone. It was one of the most difficult things you’d ever had to learn, forcing yourself to put your mission and future lives ahead of the currently-suffering.

Every time you’d watched your superiors kill an innocent person, you’d silently promised them that they wouldn’t die for nothing. But it still drove you crazy.

“That’s a stupid way to think,” Oracle hisses.

“I know.”

“People matter. No matter how small their lives may seem, how insignificant, they matter.”

“I know.”

“So if you can’t change the ambush, then I want in on it. I know who I’m looking for. I can find them, and get them out of the area safely.”

You groan inwardly and let your head fall forward. “Kid, I can’t legally allow you to do that-”

“Y/N, please!”

“I said legally.”

They bite their tongue and quiet down, catching onto your plan quickly. You explain to them how the ambush is going to work, letting them know where everyone would be and what roles they’d all play. Oracle winces a little when they realize you’re basically the bait for the whole operation, but you assure them that you’re in good hands. You trust the people you’re working with, and you trust your boyfriends.

“Don’t wear your vigilante uniform either, you’ll be too easily spotted. But make sure you bring a mask in your pocket to protect your identity.”

They nod enthusiastically, hanging on your every word. You emphasize the fact that they need to stay out from underfoot, lest they interfere with the plan you’ve set in place. “And once all your visions are dealt with, you get out of there. You don’t stick around to try and help more people. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!”

You roll your eyes at their childish demeanor, and silently wonder if you’ve made the right choice in letting them help, or if you’d just sentenced a kid to their demise.

A shiver wracks your body and draws you out of your thoughts, and you’re suddenly very aware that you’re only in thin shorts and a tank top.

“You should go inside,” Oracle says, standing up. “Wouldn’t want you getting sick. Besides, it’s almost three, and I have class at eight. I should go home before my dad scolds me.”

Your heart aches for them, for the stress they have bearing down on such young shoulders.

You stand up beside them, stretch, and shiver again. “What are you studying for?” you ask before they leave, hiding a smile when their face lights up.

“I’m gonna be an EMT!” they declare proudly. “I’ve always wanted to help people, even before I knew what to do with my quirk. I figured that since I work well under pressure, a high stress job would be suitable.”

You smile fondly at them, feeling some kind of almost-parental affection. “Keep working at it, then, and I’m sure you’ll get there. You’re a smart kid.”

They grin back at you with a cheeky expression. “The day that ‘Oracle’ disappears is the day you’d better watch out for me on the scene! I’ll be there, in the background.”

You bid your goodnights to each other after that, and you wait until they’re out of sight before walking back into the warmth of the house.

When you get in, you’re somehow unsurprised to find Shouta waiting for you on the couch. His expression and posture are both relaxed and neutral, but you can tell there’s something on his mind.

“How much did you hear?” you ask sheepishly.

“Enough,” he says. “You’re letting a vigilante help? Do you even know them?”

You take a seat beside him on the couch, falling sideways to cuddle up on his chest. He tosses an arm around your waist, pulling you closer and holding you safe.

“They’re the one who gave us this opportunity in the first place,” you chide, “without them, I’d be dead and you’d be getting a solemn phonecall about it. Besides, they would’ve shown up anyways. At least this way, they can stay out from under our feet.”

Shouta sighs deeply, a low rumble you feel against your body. His arm tightens around you ever so slightly, and you glance up at him.

“What’re you thinking about?” you wonder, reaching up to curl a few strands of his hair around your fingers.

“Oracle. They just...remind me a lot of my students, is all.”

“How so?”

“Young and naive, determined to the point of stupidity-” 

You snicker quietly.

“-but hopeful, and filled with potential. Granted they have a good guiding hand.”

You stretch up and lay a couple soft kisses along his jaw. “You’re students are lucky to have you,” you tell him honestly. “As am I.”

You lay there for a few more minutes, sharing idle thoughts and sweet kisses, simply enjoying each other’s company. You know he’s worried about the fight to come, about your survival, as well as the people caught in the crossfire. You know he’d never say any of it out loud, but you can feel it in the tension he carries.

Hoping to ease him a little, you deepen your kisses, moving your lips slowly and sensually, teasing him with the tip of your tongue. He makes a noise low in his throat, and before you know it he’s flipped your positions, caging you in beneath him.

You whine as he mouths along your jaw and throat, squirming a little against the weight of his body as his hands slip under your shirt to knead at your chest. His lips trail further and further downwards, and you eagerly press up against him, moving around so his thigh comes to rest between your legs. But just as you’re ready to fully submit to him, he pauses.

“The things I’d love to do to you,” he mutters, and pulls back. You make a noise of protest, wriggling a little to try and reestablish the delicious attention he’d been giving you.

He shushes you with a kiss.”Behave,” he tells you firmly, a thinly veiled order that only serves to spark your arousal. “You’re exhausted, Y/N. As much as I’d love to have my way with you, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

You hate to admit it in such circumstances, but you know he’s right. You feel heavy and hazy, and not just from his earlier ministrations.

He gives one last kiss to the crown of your head, and rolls off you, pulling you to your feet alongside him. You wander back to bed together, smiling when you find Hizashi still out cold, and slip quietly back under the covers.

You fade into sleep to the sound of soft goodnights.

----

You’re alone the next morning when you wake, as per usual. You vaguely recall your boyfriends kiss you good morning and then goodbye, but you had still been mostly asleep then.

You’re pretty certain you’d had some unsettling dreams, no different than usual, but it shocked you how quickly you’d gotten used to not having them. A couple good days in a row, and you were left quaking by the return of your nightmares.

There was the familiar imagery of your past, of course, it was something you dreamt of often. But alongside those thoughts were worries and fears of your future. At this point, you had less than a week until Akuma’s attack, and your nerves were starting to get the better of you.

Despite your earlier enthusiasm about ‘staying strong for other people’, you’re once again finding it difficult to imagine a happy outcome. Your therapist had mentioned you’d have high points and low points in your recovery, and that you couldn’t force yourself to feel or not feel either of them. But what if you were in a low point during the attack? What if you got caught and you couldn’t find the strength that day to get out?

What if ‘being in a low spot’ meant you’d die?

You grumble and pinch your eyes shut, rolling over in bed, but it’s too bright and you’re too alert now to fall back asleep.

Maybe you’d feel better if you did something today. You knew your schedule was clear for the afternoon, not having a therapy session until tomorrow. Maybe you could try and brave the mall again…

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to cope, should you get anxious, but a little piece of you really really wanted to try. Plus, you were running out of clothes to wear, and you’d already done the laundry twice.

Maybe you could get something for your boys, too…

----

The mall is less busy than the last time you’d ventured out, which you’re grateful for. Fewer people overall, and a quieter atmosphere made it a little easier to handle, but you still had a pair of Hizashi’s fancy headphones tucked away in case you needed some quiet.

You wander in and out of several stores, perusing the clothes and trying a few things on. You end up putting most of it back on the shelves, but you manage to find two or three things in every store you visit. It’s a substantial haul when all is said and done, and your arms are loaded with bags.

In the past, you would have smacked yourself on the back of the head for spending so much money in one sitting, but with the paycheck you’d gotten for your time undercover, you could afford to go a little overboard.

At least the commission hadn’t been stingy on it’s compensation, for all the shit you had to deal with now.

You set your purchases down on an empty bench and sort your clothes into just a few bags, so it would be easier to carry home. Part of you cringes when you look at the receipts, but you quickly shove them away. Out of sight, out of mind.

Then, just when you’re about to pack up and leave, a blindingly pink store catches your eye. Oh.

Well, you had wanted to get something for Hizashi and Shouta...and thinking back to the previous night, when Shouta’d had his hands up your shirt, you know that both of them would appreciate something like that.

So you wander into the lingerie shop, growing shy as you wander around the racks and look at all the options. You didn’t want something too difficult to remove, even though all the strings and straps would be sexy, and you didn’t want something too plain, or innocent. 

You think hard about it as you flip through clothes hangers and observe each set. Wrong colour, wrong shape, wrong size, too flashy, not flashy enough, itchy fabric...it feels like an impossible mission to find anything even remotely suitable.

You’re just about to give up and walk out, when your eyes land on one of the mannequins. It was unrealistically proportioned, but you were more interested in the lingerie it was displaying. Simple, classic, elegant, sexy...it was perfect.

You find your size on the shelf beside the display, and walk out of the store a few minutes later with another bag in hand, feeling remarkably pleased with yourself. You only hope your boyfriends wouldn’t tear the set to shreds when they finally got their hands on you.