#right now. it's a small stakes decision that can only be made once the large stakes decisions are taken care of.

[whoslaurapalmer]

so i have to keep my mom's big computer (i call it big computer but it's just a monitor with the hard drive in it, but it's a desktop and therefore bigger than my laptop) bc my brother and my's media server is attached to it, and i can't attach it to my laptop bc IT'S A LAPTOP, and the reason he brought it over here in the first place is bc he didn't have room on his desktop for it anymore, so it must! stay with me!

and i was looking at like. well overall i was looking at typewriters, first. it'd be nice to have a typewriter in general, but they're expensive, and so is the upkeep!! ribbons and stuff!! so then i was looking at keyboards, with cute little round circle keys, like a typewriter, bc i was like, well i deserve a treat. sure i've bought lipstick and hair dye and the occasional take out, but like, i do in fact deserve, a silly treat, for me, that i can tangibly see, every day. so i found a cute purple keyboard with little circle keys and a matching mouse and wrist rest and IT'S SO CUTE I LITERALLY LOVE IT SO FUCKING MUCH IT MAKES CUTE LITTLE CLATTERY KEY NOISES AND I HONESTLY WISH IT WAS ATTACHED TO MY LAPTOP BC TYPING ON IT IS SO MUCH FUCKING FUN LOOK AT THIS THING

absolutely adorable. i love it. god!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[btsqualityy]

I Choose You

Taehyung x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, crushes-to-lovers, kind of a soulmate!AU (it’s based on their scents), fluff, and smut

Warnings: Oral sex (Male and female receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, soft Dom!Taehyung, impregnation kink, and creampie 

Author’s Note: This fic is based on a prompt from the Spring Fest “Spring Will Come Again” hosted by @bangtanarmynet! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Prompt: Every Spring Fest, the unmated Alphas had to choose a mate but when Taehyung felt a pull, he didn’t expect it to lead to you.

“Come on!” Taehyung whined loudly. “Just tell me!”

“You know that I cannot tell you who is participating in the Mating Ceremony Tae,” Jimin giggled. “It’s against pack rules.”

“Alright, well just give me a clue,” Taehyung tried to bargain. The two of them were sat outside in the territory that belonged to their pack, deciding to enjoy their lunch in the newly nice weather.

“You know, to be an Alpha, you have no sense of patience,” Jimin laughed.

“And for you to be an Omega, you have no sense of loyalty to your best friend,” Taehyung pouted.

“Oh God, he’s pulling out the pouts,” Jimin groaned playfully. “If you’re so impatient about not being able to know who’s participating in the Ceremony beforehand, then why are you even doing it?”

The Mating Ceremony was an age old tradition in Taehyung’s pack that occurred every year, right at the start of the Spring Festival. For people who still believed in soulmates, the Mating Ceremony was an unbiased opportunity for those people to find the one that their soul desired. The Omegas and Betas would gather together, with their faces hidden, and it was up to an Alpha to use only their sense of smell to find the scent that they liked the most. 

Of course, a lot of people felt that scents weren’t the only important thing when it came to building the foundation of a relationship as time has passed but it was still an honored and revered tradition nonetheless. 

“Besides the fact that literally everyone that I know has found their mate during the Ceremony?” Taehyung huffed. “The fact that I’m almost 26 years old and haven’t found my mate yet.”

“Oh please, you say that as if you’re old and if you’re old, then I’m old,” Jimin said as he rolled his eyes. “And I’m definitely not old.”

“Well, you say that because you’re not alone,” Taehyung pointed out. “My parents found each other 27 years ago, Yoongi hyung found you three years ago, Joon hyung found Aareum the year before that, and hell, even Jin hyung found Jungkookie last year. Too long, didn’t read, I’m gonna die alone if I don’t do it.”

“I feel so bad for your future mate because you are so fucking dramatic,” Jimin laughed as he reached over and stole a French fry off of Taehyung’s plate.

“You’d have time to warn them if you’d just tell me who’s joining this year,” Taehyung tried to persuade him. “Come on, what’s the point in having the Head Omega as your best friend if he doesn’t supply you with useful information?”

“Oh, and here I was thinking that I was your bestfriend because I’m your platonic soulmate,” Jimin scoffed. “Look Tae, the entire point of the Mating Ceremony is to let your heart and your nose do the deciding for you. If I tell you who’s participating and who’s not, it’ll cloud your judgement and then the whole thing will be moot.”

“Ugh, fine Mr. “I wanna be ethical”,” Taehyung sighed as he stood up from the table. “I gotta go and finish up my gift for the Ceremony so I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Pouty Pants,” Jimin giggled as he waved his hand and Taehyung began to walk around the territory. He wasn’t lying when he said that he needed to go finish working on his courting gift, but he figured that it wouldn’t hurt to take a walk around the pack’s territory before he did.

Taehyung’s pack was pretty tight knit, though it was considered to be considerably larger than the other surrounding packs. Even though Taehyung’s family weren’t the ones who founded the pack, his great-great-grandfather was one of the first members to join the pack so Taehyung‘s family line literally had stakes in the very beginning of the pack. 

Growing up, Taehyung had been pretty well known around the pack but after he presented as an Alpha, it was as if he were a celebrity. Every unmated Alpha, Beta, and Omega seemed to be after him and admittedly, he had enjoyed the attention for the last few years but now, he was ready to find his mate, settle down, and start a family.

Just as Taehyung walked around the corner that separated the school building and the doctor’s house, he collided with a figure that had literally rushed into him. 

“Hey!” Taehyung yelped, gasping when the papers that the person had been holding fell down onto the ground. 

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, bending down and beginning to pick the papers up. Taehyung bent down as well, helping when he realized who you were.

“Y/N?” He called and you looked up at him, your eyes widening when you realize who he was.

“Oh Taehyung, I’m so sorry,” you apologized, bowing your head to him.

“No no no, it’s ok. Don’t worry about it,” he assured you. “Just let me help you with these.”

“I already ran into you, you don’t have to,” you tried to say but Taehyung just cut you off.

“I want to,” he chuckled and you just decided to let it go as the two of you finished picking up all of the fallen papers. Once you were both done, you stood up straight and Taehyung handed the small stack of papers that he had collected over to you. 

“So, where were you off to that has you in such a rush?” Taehyung wondered with a smile. 

“Well, uh, the start of Spring marks the halfway point in the second half of the schoolyear for the pups so I was in a rush to get their progress reports finished,” you explained and Taehyung couldn’t help but to smile at how shy you still seemed to be around him. 

The two of you knew of each other from around the pack and you went to school together, being as though the two of you were born in the same year. Because of that, you both had a lot of mutual friends but the two of you never hung out much because you were really shy and seemed almost scared of Taehyung so he always made sure to give you your space. 

“Ah, you do work in the school building,” he chuckled.

“With the seven to nine year olds,” you smiled. 

“I remember, I remember,” he nodded. “Well, besides that, how are you?”

“Good, good,” you replied. “Busy as ever this time of year, but good. How about yourself?”

“I’m good, just preparing for the Spring Festival, ” he told her. 

“Oh, are you doing the Mating Ceremony this year?” You asked and he nodded his head. 

“Are you?”

“I’ve never done it before and I don’t think I’ll start now,” you giggled. “It’s not really my thing.”

“What, finding your soulmate isn’t your thing?” Taehyung teased.

“No, I meant that not being picked by anyone wouldn’t be my thing,” you clarified. 

“Oh please, somebody would definitely choose you,” Taehyung said. “I know that we don’t talk much but anyone can see that you’re a good woman and a great Omega. I bet that any Alpha would be proud to have you be their mate.”

“Oh,” you uttered in surprise, and Taehyung couldn’t help but to feel a little sense of pride at how flustered he had made you. “T-Thank you Taehyung.”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned. 

“W-Well, I have to go,” you murmured. “See you around?”

“Yeah, see you,” Taehyung agreed but he didn’t know if you’d even heard him because you were already walking, almost running, away from him.

.....................................

Even though the Spring Fest was being held during the first week of April, Taehyung had made the decision that he’d be participating back in December of the previous year and this was because he wanted to make sure he had enough time to prepare his courting gift. A courting gift would show his future mate that he was serious about them so it took Taehyung a lot of thought to decide what he wanted to give his future mate. In the end though, it was actually Taehyung’s mother who helped him. 

He off-handedly mentioned that he was trying to figure out a gift and she ended up giving him his great-grandmother’s engagement ring. It was a ruby that sat on a nest of gold diamonds, with a gold band to accompany it. Taehyung was familiar with it because it was a family heirloom and he was so honored that his mother trusted him with it. 

When the first day of the Spring Fest arrived, Taehyung made sure that the ring box was nestled safely in the pocket of his slacks before he checked his appearance in the mirror. Wanting to look his best, he settled on a button up dress shirt that was a deep maroon color and paired it with black slacks. He added a few simple accessories like a few rings on both hands and earrings but he skipped any necklaces or bracelets, wanting to makes sure that nothing would get in the way of someone being able to smell his scent. 

“Let’s go find our mate,” Taehyung whispered to himself, making sure to fix his hair one last time before hurrying up and rushing out of the front door of his house. 

The Mating Ceremony was to be held in the large flower garden that was towards the back of the pack’s territory. The logic behind it was that finding your soulmate amongst beautiful things would help your relationship with said soulmate be beautiful as well. 

When Taehyung got there, he immediately spotted Jin and Jungkook sitting together on a bench so he walked over to them. 

“Hi Tae hyung!” Jungkook greeted him happily. 

“Hi,” Taehyung replied. “You guys came for moral support?”

“You know it,” Jin nodded. “You look really good Tae-ah.”

“Ready to find your soulmate?” Jungkook wondered.

“Thank you, and hopefully,” Taehyung sighed heavily. “I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t worry hyung, all you have to do is trust your nose,” Jungkook told him. 

“Kook’s right, you know our senses will never purposefully lead us wrong,” Jin added. 

“Thanks for the advice guys,” Taehyung chuckled, reaching out and ruffling Jungkook’s hair a little. Suddenly, a voice erupted over the loud speakers that had been placed around the garden. 

“The Mating Ceremony is about to commence,” the voice that Taehyung recognized as Jimin announced. “If you are offering a gift, please get into position.”

“Well, that’s my cue,” Taehyung said.

“Relax and don’t worry,” Jin advised him. “Just...let it happen.”

“Ok,” Taehyung nodded before turning around and walking over to a large wall of white roses. Falling into line with several other Alphas and Betas who were also participating in the Ceremony, he waited with baited breath as another line of Omegas and Betas stepped into the garden and walked over to stand right in front of the wall of roses. 

Every Omega or Beta had a veil or mask over their face so that they couldn’t be seen, and their own choice of outfit but most of them were dressed pretty formally, just like Taehyung was. 

“Alphas and Betas who are presenting gifts, you know the rules,” Jimin spoke up again. “No sneaking a peek at anybody until you offer them your gift and they actually accept it, no trying to force your gift upon anyone who makes it clear that they do not want it, and trust your instincts! Happy finding!”

Taehyung then closed his eyes, taking a deep inhale in order to smell the air around him. He picked up a few scents here and there, with hints of chocolate and mint but none of them especially stuck out to them. He then opened his eyes and they slightly widened when he saw some of the Alphas and Betas already offering gifts to some of the Betas and Omegas who had been waiting. He had to admit, it kind of shocked him because it was seemingly so simple for them but not for him. Deciding to follow everyone’s advice and trust his senses, he shut his eyes again and took another deep breath it, and that was when he smelled it.

The initial wave that hit his nose was reminiscent of tangerines, and then that was mixed with the scent of berries that seemed to almost intermingle with the tangerine scent. Those were two very typical scents, especially for Omegas, but what really caught Taehyung’s attention was the scent of pink champagne. It was something that he had never smelt in a scent before and before he could even realize it, he was moving towards the source of the scent.

When he realized that he had stepped up to the person that the scent belonged to, he took a second to look over them. It seemed to be a woman, who had on a flowing white dress along with a small matching white veil. Taehyung reached out and extended his wrist towards their nose for them to be able to smell his scent clearly and when the woman let out an appreciative hum, Taehyung’s heart clenched because this was it. He had found the one. 

Taehyung reached into his pocket and took out the ring box, extending it towards the woman. The woman then reached out and took the box from it, a soft giggle coming from her as she did so.

“Thank you,” the woman said and Taehyung’s eyes widened because he recognized the voice, he just couldn’t remember where from. When the woman reached up and lifted the veil back from her face, Taehyung wanted to kick himself for not immediately recognizing who the voice came from. 

“Hi,” you smiled. 

.....................................

“I cannot believe that I didn’t know that it was you,” Taehyung huffed.

“Well, that’s kind of the point Taehyung,” you giggled from your spot on his bed. After the ceremony had ended, Taehyung invited you back to his house so that the two of you could have some alone time.

“I just didn’t expect this,” he said as he sat down next to you.

“Are you...upset that I’m your mate?” You asked wearily and Taehyung immediately shook his head.

“No!” He exclaimed. “Even though we don’t talk much, I know that you’re amazing. Hell, Jungkook raves about you all the time. I also meant what I said the other day.”

“W-Well, that’s good,” you replied shyly. “By the way, I’m sorry for not talking to you much over the years.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he shrugged. “I just figured that you were shy and I don’t mind that.”

“It wasn’t shyness, though,” you blurted and his eyebrows rose. 

“Really?”

“The truth is, I’ve had a crush on you since you presented,” you confessed. 

“Y/N, that was almost 10 years ago,” he gasped in surprise. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I never thought that I had a chance,” You chuckled. “For years, every unmated Omega and Beta and even some Alphas have been after you. When you look at them and then look at me, I’m not as interesting or as beautiful when compared to them. I don’t know, I just don’t think that I measure up.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Taehyung admonished you. “You’re gorgeous Y/N-ah, and the sweetest person I know.”

“Really?” You deadpanned.

“Absolutely,” he nodded. He could tell that you didn’t believe him though, so he decided to be honest. “You wanna know something?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve had a crush on you too,” he admitted, making your eyes widen. “Not for as long as you have, but at least two years. I just never made a move because you seemed so shy around me and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable because I figured that you just weren’t interested.”

“Seriously?” You gasped and he nodded. “We’re a big pair of idiots then, huh?”

“Definitely,” he laughed as he reached over and grabbed both of your hands in his. “It’s a good thing that we both decided to participate in the Ceremony then, huh?”

“Another confession? I only joined because I was hoping that my Omega would be able to say to your Alpha what I’ve never been able to bring myself to say aloud,” you told him. 

“And what is that?”

“That I want to be with you, Kim Taehyung,” you replied. Taehyung felt his Alpha preen at your confession and it wasn’t that Taehyung had doubted the validity of the Ceremony but actually being able to feel the connection between the two of you only solidified everything for him.

“I want to be with you too Y/N L/N,” he smiled. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you giggled and Taehyung let go of your hands to set his hands on your cheeks, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss began soft at first, the both of you feeling a little nervous since this whole thing was so new.

It wasn’t until you laid back on the bed, pulling Taehyung down along with you that the two of you became more comfortable, you opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to slide against yours. Taehyung set his hand on your thigh, gently tracing random shapes with his fingertips as you kissed each other passionately.

“Y/N, I have to ask you something,” he murmured and you pulled away from his lips to look up at him. 

“What is it?”

“Are you a virgin?” He wondered and you felt your cheeks warm up immediately. “I’m not trying to be intrusive or anything, I just want to know so that I can gauge how comfortable you are.”

“Do you remember when I dated Xiumin?” You asked him and he rolled his eyes.

“That dickhead? Yeah,” he huffed.

“I lost my virginity to him.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m in love with that piece of information,” he admitted.

“I only dated him because I was trying to get over you, which sounds really bad when I say it out loud,” you laughed. “That was around the same time that you were dating Jisoo.”

“Ah,” he said as he set his fingertips over your lips to silence you. “We don’t mention that forbidden name.”

“Ok, sorry,” you giggled. 

“So, if I told you that I want to have sex with you tonight,” Taehyung began, making your lower half clench around nothing. “Would you want to?”

“Yes,” you rushed out. “I want to.”

“Good, because I want to too,” he smiled before leaning down and kissing you again. You moaned into his mouth when he moved over so that he was on top of you, his lips never leaving yours as he did so. He then trailed his lips downwards, licking and sucking on the skin of your neck. 

“Ohh,” you sighed in pleasure, reaching down and tangling your fingers in his hair. Taehyung pulled away and reached up to grab your hands, untangling them from his hair and holding your wrists firmly when he placed them back down on the bed above your head, holding them there. 

“You keep these here for me, ok?” He asked and you could tell from his tone that he was both asking for permission and clarification. 

“Ok,” you whispered and he smiled. 

“Perfect Omega,” he murmured as he went back to kissing your neck and you had to clasp your hands together because you were too tempted to reach down and touch him again. After he had left a few marks on your neck, he brought his hands up and grabbed onto your breasts which made you gasp.

“As beautiful as this dress is Y/N-ah, I think we should take it off now. Yeah?” Taehyung suggested and you nodded your head rapidly. He moved off of you so that you could sit up and he moved around the bed on his knees so that he was behind you. He reached out and pulled down the zipper on your dress, and you reached up and pulled the dress down off of your shoulders. Once your arms were out of it, you got up onto your knees and pushed it down your legs and onto the floor. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous Y/N-ah,” he muttered huskily as he took in the sight of you in your stark white bralette and white lace panties. Your Omega preened at his praise, making your cheeks warm up.

“Really?”

“Really,” he smiled, moving back around your body and leaning down so that he was face to face with your breasts as he reached out to grab ahold of them. “I’m so fucking lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” you whispered as he pulled the material of the bralette to the side, causing both of your breasts to fall out. Without another word, he leaned forward and sucked your nipple into his mouth. You couldn’t help but to fall back on the bed, Taehyung falling along without a problem and not letting up on the onslaught that was his tongue.

Once your nipple had stiffened to a peak, he switched over to your other nipple and gave it the same treatment. You could smell your scent from in between your thighs, the notes of berries and pink champagne becoming stronger and stronger the wetter you became. 

You knew Taehyung could smell you too, because you could feel the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

“Fuck, Alpha,” you whimpered. “Wanna suck you off.”

“Whatever you want baby,” he agreed easily after pulling his mouth away from you, sitting up and reaching down to unbutton his slacks. You sat up, watching with hooded eyes as he unzipped them, pushing them down a little bit so that he was able to pull out his cock and your mouth literally watered at the sight of it. 

Taehyung’s cock wasn’t enormous, but it was definitely longer than average and it looked to be thick. You reached out and wrapped both of your hands around his length, and you felt yourself become wetter when you realized that you couldn’t even wrap your hands around him completely.

“Fuck, I can smell you baby,” he grumbled and you moaned softly at the pet name. “Do you like what you see?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. He exhaled harshly, looking down to watch as you did your best to take as much of him in your mouth as possible. You actually managed to do pretty good, doing your best to breathe through your nose as you sunk down closer and closer to the base of his cock. 

“Oh fuck,” he huffed. “Such a good girl, taking Alpha’s cock down your throat.” Bringing your hands back up, you stacked both of them on top of each other as you jerked him off while suckling on the head of his cock. 

“God, that feels good. Makes me want to fuck your throat,” he grumbled. “You gonna let me do that one day baby? Gonna let Alpha use your mouth?”

“Mmm, yes Alpha,” you gasped after releasing him from your mouth, your spit acting as lube as you continued to jerk him off. 

“Fuck, lay down for me,” he instructed you. “I have to taste you.” You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions, laying back on the bed and resting on your forearms as you watched him push his slacks and boxers down and off his legs before he moved onto unbuttoning his shirt. 

He wasn’t overly muscular but you could still see the outline of what would be a six-pack, and your inner Omega loved the fact that your Alpha would be able to protect you if need be. 

Taehyung laid down on his front in between your legs, pulling your panties to the side before leaning forward and licking a stripe up your pussy, from your slit up to your clit. You gasped, your thighs involuntarily coming to together but Taehyung’s hands came up to push them back down. 

“Be still and let me make you come baby,” he whispered and you nodded numbly. He then went back to licking at you, making you whine and squirm underneath him. 

“Huh, holy shit,” you gasped, your chest beginning to move up and down quickly as your orgasm approached you. “Please don’t stop Tae.”

“Mmm,” he moaned against you, shaking his head back and forth over your clit which made his tongue do the same. 

“Do that again,” you requested and he obliged you, shaking his head back and forth rapidly and you felt your orgasm winding to it’s end in your abdomen. “Fuck yes, I’m gonna come.” Your head fell back onto the bed and just as you closed your eyes and felt yourself about to tip over the edge into ecstasy, Taehyung pulled away from you. 

“What?” You whimpered as you opened your eyes, looking down at him. 

“I want you to come on my knot,” he told you. He reached out and grabbed the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs and throwing them onto the floor. He then settled himself in between your thighs, leaning down and letting his cock rub against your clit. 

“If you want me to come on your knot, you shouldn’t do that,” you whimpered.

“You could come like this?” He wondered in awe and you nodded your head. “We’re gonna have to test that out one day.”

“We have the rest of our lives for that,” you promised him. 

“You got that right,” he smiled, moving his hips so that he could slide inside of you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands gripping onto his arms as he slowly opened you up. 

“Fuh, fuck,” you stuttered, your eyes fluttering closed at how good he felt inside of you, stretching you out in the best way.

“God, you’re so tight but you’re opening up so well for me baby,” Taehyung grunted, making sure to push his hips as close to yours as he could so that he could go as deep as possible. “You really are my mate, huh?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your mind barely being able to comprehend his words because the feeling of being completely and utterly clouded all of your senses. He continued to roll his hips against yours, his cock dragging against your walls as he did. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this, how much I’ve thought about this,” he muttered. “I’d see you walking around the territory all shy, keeping your eyes low so that people wouldn’t approach you and all I could think about was that you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and how much I wanted to fuck you with my knot.”

“Mmm, knot,” you slurred, making Taehyung smile because of course knot was the word that you caught. 

“I’d watch you with the pups, teaching them and being so gentle and patient with them and my only thought would be about how I wanted to fuck some pups of my own into you so that you could be their mother,” he groaned, his hips stuttering slightly when he felt your walls clench around him like a vice grip. “Oh, you want that? Want Alpha to give you some pups?”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned wantonly, moving your own hips so that you were fucking back onto him. “Want your cum, want a pup.”

“I’ll give it to you baby,” he swore as he began to fuck you faster. “Alpha will give you anything you want.”

“W-want you,” you whined as you felt your orgasm quickly building back up again. 

“You have me baby,” he chuckled deeply. “You always have, I think.”

“A-alpha, g-gonna c-c-come,” you managed to utter as your body moved up and down the bed, the force of Taehyung fucking you literally moving you on the bed. 

“Go ahead so that I can knot you gorgeous,” he encouraged you. You reached down and set your fingertips on your clit, only managing to make two circles on it before you were coming. Your thighs spasmed and clutched around Taehyung’s waist, the rest of your body shaking on the bed from how forceful your orgasm was. 

“T-Tae,” you whimpered, your body shivering even after the crest of your orgasm had passed. Taehyung leaned down, pressing soft kisses against your face that were in stark contrast to how he was still fucking you. 

“So good for me baby,” he whispered. “Came so prettily for me.”

“Kiss me,” you pleaded weakly and he just smiled at you before pressing his lips against yours. The force coming from how hard he was thrusting into you caused your mouth to fall open and Taehyung didn’t hesitate to stick his tongue inside, exploring around.

You literally felt his cock pulse inside of you and before you could pull away in order to ask, ropes of his cum flooded into you. His knot inflated immediately afterwards, making you moan as it forced its’ way inside of you. 

“Holy shit Y/N-ah,” he panted as he hid his face in your neck, collapsing on top of you. “I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.”

“Me either,” you admitted with a giggle. “I loved it though.”

“Me too,” he muttered as he pulled himself up so that he could look down at you. “I know this is probably a weird thing to ask given what we just got finished doing, but you accept the fact that you’re my mate right?”

“Tae, of course,” you smiled. “My Omega would hate me if I rejected you and you know our wolf side doesn’t lie.”

“I guess I just wanted to know if it was as strong for you as it was for me,” he mumbled and you placed your hands on his cheeks, making him look down at you. 

“You’re my mate Kim Taehyung,” you told him. “I knew it and felt it the moment that you gave me your wrist and I smelled your scent.”

“I knew it too,” he smiled. “I’ll give you your bite in the morning, I’m just too tired right now.”

“No complaints from me,” you laughed. “Coming so hard can definitely take a lot out of a person.” Taehyung then laid his head down on your chest and you reached up, setting your hands in his hair as you began to play with the sweaty strands.

“I’m so glad that my Alpha chose you,” he muttered sleepily and you could feel the goofy smile spread onto your face before you leaned down and kissed the top of his head. 

“Me too Tae,” you sighed in contentment. “Me too.”

[emperor-kumquat]

Why Trepan became small and cute (bonus: breaking gender)

Yes, he’s sus. But he’s adorable. How did this happen? Truth be told, it was not my intention to make him cute, and instead that was just a byproduct of his design. But I embraced it before I started the actual writing.

It began when I was debating on what alt-form to give Trepan in TFP. Aligned Transformers have alt-forms that help them move or fight, so being an object wasn’t an option. I wondered things like if I would make him flight-capable or not. My first priority was this: design an elusive character. I wanted him to be hard to learn about and hard to catch. I wanted a quieter presence, so a wide 4-wheeler didn’t fit.  A slim and quiet 2-wheeler just felt right for the sense of him, and he would be very quick and agile for when large characters tried to grab him.

I settled on my decision when I wanted Trepan to be a super talented doctor. There was one scene in TFP where Ratchet was picking an Autobot to do surgery on him. He picked Arcee because her hands were smallest, but she wasn’t comfortable with the task. 

But what if someone with small hands were comfortable? How talented they would be at surgery! Trepan’s tiny hands could go deep into bodies to repair them, and he could grab bleeding lines and melt them together. Little fingers and scalpels could be so precise in surgeries on giant brains. His hands are incredible!

Once I decided he would be a thin 2-wheeler, I then wanted him to resemble Arcee. Making him the same race as her was an opportunity to break the stereotypical robot gender designs. In TFP, all the she/her robots are feminine. Arcee has boob plates, but for a Cybertronian, chest plates are just metal. Body shapes are coincidences. But the TFP concept art book said they specifically designed Arcee to be feminine. Why is it that he/him robots can have any shape, but the female ones must be like humans coated in metal? More than curves, they even have defined lips...

So I gave Trepan the same kind of body because they are the same kind of Cybertronian. By feminizing Trepan, I made it a two-wheeler thing, not a gender thing. I normalized the body type for all genders; any gender can have boob plates now. I love mixing up the designs; there is so much freedom in making the robots look any way you want. If I want sassy valley girl Froid, he’s getting hips to sway. 

(Bikini Froid?)

Strika and Ripclaw are beady-eyed and lipless because they are intimidating by their appearances. Leozack and Lyzack have the same body. Overlord has mascara and lipstick because it’s fashion 

(people also seem distracted by his tits though. What can I say but Overlord is our multi-gender icon?)

Trepan couldn’t have needles because mnemosurgery doesn’t fit in Aligned. I made him keep his little claws though; Trepan has scalpels. For more expression, I let him have orange pupils to narrow, so he looks very squinty and suspicious. But pouting when you are so little just makes people find you cute. And he is delicate and unable to fight, so the bots around him are protective. Then, when you read the story and learn the twists, Trepan really is cute because he wasn’t actually doing those horrible things people thought he was. He looks grouchy, but he’s very kindhearted. You just want to scoop him up!

The delicacy was also important for increasing Overlord’s hostility when someone was more likely to hurt Trepan, even accidentally. The stakes are much higher when Maximus grabbed him and killing Trepan was as easy as using two fingers. Maximus hurts Trepan while barely trying, and I enjoy the stress in the scenes where Trepan is in danger. 

He’s also farsighted and sleepy, so that’s also endearing. He’s only farsighted to justify the glasses, because IDW Trepan’s goggles are a must for the design. One scene you chase him and he doesn’t have his glasses, and he’s frantically trying to lock a door but he can’t read the keypad XD

He burns out and can’t rest without aid or comfort, so I also can’t stop thinking about him and Froid hahahaha

(squinty gay)

[stillness-in-green]

MVA In Memoriam (2/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia)

Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party

Chapter 224 – Revival Party

• Mr. Compress’s side comment about how the distance Re-Destro wants them to travel means he must know they have warp capabilities. Also shortens his subsequent line, removing the bit about how their position has been locked onto, leaving only the marveling about the dude on the phone being the kind of person who has access to a satellite camera. Not a major cut, but it did strip out a bit of reiteration on how very Seen the League is. The warp line is another nod to how the MLA’s been doing their research—in particular, it ties in nicely with RD’s observations about the Noumu. He talks, there, about something Dabi said after the High End fight, which means he must also know that Dabi was warped out by an “Ujiko-san.”

• Also Mr. C’s observation that they haven’t broken Machia yet, and his posed question about what to do. Mr. Compress, I’m so sorry that you’re so wordy and lose so many quips and asides because the anime was set on brutally scything out every line of non-essential dialogue it could find.

• Ujiko’s extremely hilarious, “Listening to Villain Radio is my new favorite hobby,” line. Why would you cut this; this line is hysterical.

• The bit where Mr. Compress has the bright idea to use a High End Noumu like the one Dabi used, Ujiko rejects the suggestion out of hand, citing production woes, and Shigaraki says that he wasn’t going to ask for one of them anyway. Aside from being more cut Compress content (or “Comptent,” for short), it helps center the timeline somewhat at a point where the manga is jerking it around all over; it also shows that the League has been keeping up with news from the outside world. It also shows that at least one of them thought about using the Noumu—and since we know Re-Destro did some rationalizing on that scenario too, it’s good to see that it is at least briefly on the table.           Further, Ujiko provides a few rare details about the Noumu creation process. Firstly, that AFO is normally involved, so his absence makes the procedure much more difficult (though not, apparently, impossible). Secondly, that Hood-chan was the only Noumu who’d actually reached the testing stage. This will be important later, for Ujiko’s agonizing about unleashing them early/Mirko having to fight four of them at once.           Also, I just miss Mr. C’s funny little head wilt when Ujiko immediately turns down his “use some Noumu” idea. Ditto Shigaraki’s blasé shrug and little grin. Again, not to harp on the art too much, but man I wish the anime had kept all the fierce little grins and tight, incensed smirks Shigaraki has through the majority of this and the phone call sequence.

• Spinner’s line, “Without knowing squat about what we’re up against?!” A minor cut, as these things go, but it reiterates that there’s a chance RD is bluffing and the League has no way to know one way or the other, and demonstrates that the League can give Shigaraki some pushback on his decisions without having to worry about getting dusted for the temerity.[1]

• Takes one of Spinner’s lines—“Wait. I get it. Wherever you go, Shigaraki, he’ll sniff you out and hunt you down.”—and gives it to Shigaraki instead. Because fuck Spinner’s growing understanding of Shigaraki and the way his mind works, I guess! It’s especially notable that Spinner figures this out when Mr. C had completely the wrong idea about Shigaraki’s intentions—it demonstrates the way Spinner is gradually aligning himself with Shigaraki’s way of thinking, which we’ll see even more clearly during the War Arc. Also, again, it’s good to see the moments where the League weighs in on Shigaraki’s plans.

• The visual of Twice lashing out at Dabi with his razor-edged tape measure over Dabi’s dismissal of Giran, though all the relevant dialogue was there. Possibly this is because, having cut the CRC bit, the audience has no way of knowing that Twice’s tape measure is razor-edged, so why bother raising the question, “Why is Twice trying to attack Dabi with a tape measure..?” Possibly it’s because showing that attack would require animating movement, and MAN ALIVE, did Episode 109 ever want to do everything it could to avoid animating movement.

• Slidin’ Go’s line about how Deika isn’t usually his turf, but today is a big exception. This makes the hearty affirmative with which Trumpet announces himself a response to Shigaraki’s half-phrased observation about the reason behind the city’s emptiness, rather than a response to Slidin’ Go. It works, more or less, and probably even flows more clearly, all things considered. I’m always sad to lose lines from the vanishingly few named/characterized MLA members we have, though. I like, too, that it hints at the machinations that have to have been involved with setting things up for the Revival Party, and the way those plans were carried out with confidence that Re-Destro’s “bait the League into coming for their broker” plan would work despite the total absence of a response from the League in any of the time Giran was missing/his fingers were cropping up on the nightly news reports.

• A few shots of cameras in the city, which foreshadow Skeptic’s watchful eyes and ability to track the League through the city. In retrospect, this isn’t surprising, since the anime went on to cut basically any indication of Skeptic’s entire plan re: the footage of the League attacking, so why bother keeping the cameras? (Oh, right. Skeptic’s whole thing is cameras and information/disinformation. Skeptic for second-most screwed-by-the-anime MLA member.)

Additions

• Showed Toga having stood back up somewhere during Shigaraki’s explanation of their throw-Machia-against-the-MLA plan. A simply appalling choice. In the manga, she stays crouched down by Twice the entire time Shigaraki has his mask pulled off, because Toga cares about reassuring Jin-kun when he’s in a bad way.

• Rephrased Compress’s dialogue somewhat, also giving him a new line about the MLA’s forces in Deika when the League was still in the hills looking down at the city: “The so-called Meta Liberation Army has a force of 110,000 here.” I assume it was because the scene falls in a different episode than the tactical discussion did (in the manga, they’re the same chapter), so the anime was reminding the viewer of the stakes, but it’s potentially awkward because, er, no, the MLA categorically did not bring their entire army to Deika. We’ll find out as much for sure later, with the note that the regiment advisors weren’t in attendance because they were occupied at the bases they command, but even with only the knowledge we have here, Re-Destro’s statement about his numbers is that they’re scattered all over the country—hence the shot of Japan with a bunch of lights scattered across it to represent said numbers.           That said, to be (briefly) charitable, there’s no particular reason for the League to assume that, and they did discuss the possibility that there were going to have to fight 110,000 people. So it makes sense that Mr. C might state as much when recapping for the audience.

Chapter 225 – Interview with a Vampire

• Re-Destro talking about Deika’s geography and why they chose it strategically. The anime dropped so much about the MLA’s planning and information-gathering beforehand; it really made the MLA look ludicrously overconfident. And while they don’t lack for that trait, certainly,[2] this is also an organization that has meticulously grown its membership for generations right under Hero Society’s collective nose; you don’t get to where they are by being unduly foolhardy. Erasing so many scenes demonstrating their caution and forward-planning undercuts the threat they represent to both the League and society at large.           Also too, the descriptor of Deika as a nice, quiet, isolated little town in the mountains gives us some hints about how the MLA has avoided notice for so long, when you consider how the Hero business works: because so many people who get into heroism want to make it big, like celebrities, they don’t want to stick around small-town beats, and so the rural areas are understaffed.[3] That’s presumably why groups like the CRC and the MLA grow their numbers out in the boonies: much less attention from the Powers That Be. You can guess at some of that from how Spinner describes the place—“not too small, not too big”—and what Trumpet says about the percentage of the population that’s MLA, but RD adds that key “isolated” descriptor, and says that it’s a place where they “lay low.” That gives us some potential insight into how many—likely the majority—of the MLA came to their beliefs: by being raised to them, because their hometown was infiltrated by the MLA generations ago and they have literally never known anything else.

• RD’s phrasing, “Counter to point one,” when he makes his second point about the Noumu. He acknowledges that it’s counter-intuitive to his first argument, that he knows it would normally be an argument against that opening point, not in support. It’s just conversational padding, really, but “conversational padding” like that does a lot to distinguish character voice, so that not everyone talks the same way.

• A panel showing a trio of unnamed MLA warriors strategizing about how to divide their forces now that the League has split up. It’s the little cuts like this that gradually remove the agency of unnamed characters, such that they’re left looking like unthinking puppets instead of real people with the ability to register and respond to their circumstances. It also points towards the truth of what the MLA warriors are and one reason they’re so dangerous (for all that the manga itself will neglect this most egregiously later on): they’re trained in regiment tactics and accustomed to working in groups. This contrasts them both with villains, who might group together, but certainly don’t usually fight that way, and heroes, who are so unaccustomed to working in groups that it’s cited as part of the reason to have named super moves.

• Curious’s little pageboy-cut middle school kid line telling Toga to back off when Miss Curious is on the job. This is an early example of how defensive the MLA are of people above them in the hierarchy, an important thing Spinner will pick up on and attempt to use against Trumpet. Again, it’s little moments like this that both add some welcome notes of individuality to the MLA warriors (if only by virtue of Horikoshi and his assistants’ traditional talent for distinctive character design) while also fleshing out who the MLA are as a group, and contrasting them with the League.

• Deleted Toga’s line IDing her “on-the-go suck-suck mask,” but did insert a nice little bit of her expression shifting when she whipped it out. It lost a bit of the self-conscious silliness of her support item name in exchange for a cool little animation beat. I don’t dislike it, particularly, but I am, as previously stated, very leery of edits that make the League more polished in their villainy at the cost of their human foibles.

• Curious’s line about having come prepared to counter Toga’s moves, which was supposed to further reiterate that the MLA has done their research on the League; they didn’t just decide out of the blue to target the most notorious Villains in the country without studying up on them first and planning accordingly!

• Curious’s line about how she’s going to get started with some background info while her people use their meta-abilities to keep Toga and her buddies on the ropes. A marvelously characterful line! It speaks especially to that edge of formality the MLA brass observe that even as she’s ringleading this attack, Miss Curious is still set on going through her interview process step by established step.

Framing Shifts

• Made some of Curious’s lines spoken dialogue instead of internal monologue. That’s probably fine for when she’s waxing enthusiastic about Toga’s lack of hesitation in committing murder or how she’ll use Toga’s story to further the MLA’s agenda. It’s less fine when she’s rattling out the entire name, brand and patent status of her support item for no particular reason when Toga is already halfway through trying to knife her (that’ll be next chapter).

• The anime implied pretty firmly that Curious’s bombers died. And like, yeah, that’s always made more sense than the idea that anyone could survive something like that, but I hate it anyway. For one thing, it makes it even harder to credit the idea that Toga’s still on her feet afterward if Curious’s supposedly not-very-lethal explosions merk all her own people. People in this series survive ludicrous amounts of damage, and these random MLA devotees are no exception! For another, it leans into the narrative that the MLA higher-ups throw away the lives of their minions without the slightest care. It’s a lot harder to make that case when it’s explicit in the manga that Curious’s people survive the blood explosions—the blonde in the tracksuit is unharmed enough to snicker about it, and the noodle chef is even doing well enough to continue attacking! I’ve always been of the opinion that the MLA are, yes, willing to spend the lives of their underlings on attaining goals, if that’s what they think is necessary, but that is not at all the same as gleefully throwing them onto the pyre to watch them burn.

Additions

• Some individual shots of Mr. Compress, Dabi and Twice fending off or fleeing from various MLA types. A nice try on getting the group split up, but it feels kind of budget save-y, when we could have gotten actual animation of those fights instead.

• Inserted a quick shot of a headline about Toga’s first attack as Curious was rambling on about why she’s interested in Toga but not the League in general. Actually a fairly reasonable insertion, given how much text is crammed into her talk bubble in the manga while the dude standing next to her is already getting a knife in the neck.

Chapter 226 – Bloody Love

• A panel of interviewees talking about Toga’s first victim being sociable and popular. It gives a bit of context on what he was like, what people thought of him, but given that we know enough about Toga at this point to know that his popularity was entirely incidental to what she liked about him, it’s not a huge loss.

• The detail of the broadcasted interviews censoring Toga’s name. Considering how Japanese media normally treats minors accused of crimes, this is an eyebrow-raising change—the manga censors it because Japanese media outlets would have done the same. No idea why the anime didn’t, unless it’s another of those places where it would feel too “real,” to have something that so closely mirrors real life treatment of criminals?

• Everything about quirk counseling, and whoo boy, that is a loaded cut. There is exactly one other mention of quirk counseling anywhere in the manga, and, curiously enough, it also comes up in relation to a villain: in the U.A. faculty meeting after the USJ attack, Midnight muses that maybe Shigaraki never received quirk counseling in elementary school. It’s a weird little non sequitur there—exactly what sort of program did she expect could single-handedly make the difference between a well-adjusted adult and a gleefully murderous manchild with aims on killing Japan’s Number 1 Hero? Just over two hundred chapters later, we get a hint: a program designed to fit people “neatly into society’s little boxes.”           Quirk counseling, then, is not about helping children find healthy ways to process their quirks, but rather, about teaching children what is and is not acceptable in terms of quirk use—and as Curious says, Toga’s admiration of blood was never going to be acceptable.[4] This explanation doesn’t just tell us a lot about Toga—that she wasn’t only failed by the hysterical condemnation of her parents, but also by a society that had no interest in helping her if it didn’t see a use for her—but also provides some insight on the viewpoint of the Meta Liberation Army vis-à-vis mandatory state-funded programs that dictate what “normalcy” looks like to impressionable children.           Curious is, of course, not a particularly trustworthy narrator in this, as one might expect of someone who uses language like “society’s little boxes,” but it does track with Midnight’s earlier musing of, “Maybe the anti-social dude never took the program intended to make sure he was a functioning member of society.” That kind of statement—“State-sponsored educational programs are there to program children into becoming unthinking cogs of society, actually.”—is one that it’s all too easy to imagine the people with an eye on broadcast standards taking issue with, even coming as it does from the mouth of a villain.

• Curious’s line, “Let’s turn your death into a legendary tragedy, shall we?” and its accompanying visual of two different papers with imagined headlines. The dialogue doesn’t strike me as crucial—Curious’s fervent belief in Toga’s story is amply demonstrated elsewhere and her intent to turn that story into a legend reiterated in the line immediately following—but it is a shame to lose the headlines. They tell us, in Curious’s own words, exactly the tack she was planning to take in telling Toga’s story to the general public, without the constant namedropping of the Liberation Army that she does when talking about it in person. One headline in particular—The Price of Suppression: A String of Bloody Murders—is an especially useful reference for discussing whether the MLA actually wants, as is popularly claimed, completely unhindered quirk use, even for people like e.g. Muscular who want nothing more than to murder people with their quirks.[5]

• Curious’s initial wait what response to getting Floated, and her people’s focus shifting away from Toga and onto Curious instead. On a surface level, that focus shift helps explain why Toga’s able to zip around the ground and touch nearly twenty people before they even react: because they’re afraid for Curious. It also hurts the ongoing characterization of the MLA rank and file as being fanatically devoted to their higher-ups which, again, is something Spinner is supposed to notice later. It’s the worst kind of plot device if that devotion is completely told to us rather than consistently shown!

• Toga’s internal reflection that she’s seen Ochaco use her quirk, and knows how to use it. It’s obvious from the panel that she knows how to use it, but the manga implies that Toga transforming doesn’t automatically grant her an understanding of peoples’ quirks; it’s only in observation (and possibly love) that she can reach this particular unlock. Leaving out that information leaves open the possibility that she can just do this all the time now, with anybody she transforms into.

• The reaction from the surviving crowd to Curious’s death. See above re: STOP FUCKING ERASING HOW MUCH THE MLA CARES FOR EACH OTHER.

Framing Shifts

• When Toga bolts, Curious in the anime sounded serious, her expression alarmed, like she was actually worried that Toga might escape, even though her dialogue said just the opposite. Maybe you could say that she was afraid Toga would die before she got her statement, but given that she tried to kill the girl herself moments later, I’m skeptical of that claim. Regardless, in the manga, she never loses her smile, and she flashes a Liberation salute as she stands up to give chase. It’s a characterization note, that she’s so wildly confident about this that she never stops being completely enthralled with whatever Toga has to show her.

Chapter 227 – Sleepy

• The last of Toga’s conscious dialogue, about how she’s lost a lot of blood, is fading out, can’t move—but more notably, the way that this state of things makes her feel closer to “them,” that it’s “the same sensation.” And who is “they” here—her victims? The people she loves? More alarmingly, why does the line sound like she’s been this beat-up before, and remembers the sensation? Does that tie into e.g. her comment during the training camp that she doesn’t want to fight too many hero students at once because she doesn’t want to die? Has she actually been subject to this kind of violence before in the past? Does that tie into her still-unexplained ability to erase her presence? It’s an interestingly loaded little line, for being so vague, and illustrative of Toga’s mentality on becoming the people she loves. Which also lets the scene segue nicely into Re-Destro’s observation that, in Toga Himiko’s world, there’s no such thing as “other people.”           On which note, guess what else the anime cut?

• The entire fucking scene where Re-Destro actually reacts to Curious’ death, the motherfuckers. This lost:           1. RD’s talk about the way Toga sees the world and how that led to society casting her out, which he points to as evidence of said society clinging to old ideals even though the nature of humanity itself has changed. It calls back to his methodology with Detnerat, marrying his lines from the commercial to his overarching ideals; it also shows that he understood very well what Curious saw in Toga, and demonstrates that he can express that understanding and empathy even in the face of losing one of his closest allies.           2. Skeptic’s reaction to Curious’s death, which is pretty sparse, but at least present. He says she never should have been on the front lines—an excellent reminder to the people who’re always going on about how the MLA brass thinks themselves so above their followers: Curious was on the front lines, against the wishes of some of her peers!—and calls her a valuable resource.[6] You can theorize about Skeptic not caring for her beyond her usefulness to the cause, or just that Skeptic is a huge autist who processes his emotions differently than most, and isn’t going to stop to do that when there’s still a battle going on, but either way, you need this scene to do it accurately.           3. Speaking of people who process their emotions in unusual ways, as I said above, this scene also shows Re-Destro openly crying over the deaths of Curious and each and every warrior diving into battle with their hopes for the future. They’re not crocodile tears, either. As was the case with Miyashita, there’s no one in this room that Re-Destro would need to perform grief for: Skeptic clearly doesn’t see a use for tears right now, so I don’t see him expecting them from Re-Destro, and the only other person in the room is Giran, a hostage who the MLA—very probably Re-Destro himself—maimed! It’s not like RD’s tears are going to change Giran’s mind about him (indeed, Giran gets a comedic reaction beat at the absurdity of the dude who started all this up here crying about it)! But RD says life is precious and he cries anyway, briefly, before he ruthlessly turns it off.           RD’s valuing of human life—especially his own peoples’ lives—crops up in roundabout ways twice more, both leading the fight with Shigaraki (“It angers me.”) and ending it (“Any more would bring about meaningless death.”). This, though, is when he’s most open about it, to the degree that—as with Machia’s grief—it’s kind of off-putting and strange. Cutting it makes it that much easier for people to get entirely the wrong impression of RD as a character.           4. The delightful scene where Skeptic berates Giran about asking brainless questions and then answers his question anyway. Fuckin’ hell, why cut this?? So much of Skeptic’s character is in this scene! You get moments of his neuroticism later on, but never in so concentrated a burst as this (there’s one other sequence that could compete, but—spoilers—the anime cut that one, too). The exchange also explains the cameras placed throughout the city—which are visually referenced early on—and what the MLA is planning to do with their footage. Without that explanation, the audience has no idea how, exactly, the MLA was planning to use wiping out the League as a springboard for their grand return to the spotlight. That footage is the crucial part of how the rest of the country reacts to Deika in the Endeavor Agency Arc, and the anime never even mentioned it! The audience was just left to assume that all the media came in afterward, not that there was the slightest whiff of footage from the battle itself.           5. Once again brings up Re-Destro’s belief in the power of the heart to move other hearts. We get a bit of that in Curious’s flashback, but here he says it in his own words—as he will also bring it up to Shigaraki. Once again, Shigaraki is going to be challenged about his conviction, which ties back into what Spinner and Ujiko demanded from him earlier in the arc. With so

many people set to be grilling Shigaraki on this front, it tells us again what the arc is for: Shigaraki’s conviction, and him demonstrating it to the people who think he lacks it.

• The panel of Spinner asking how long they’ve been at it and Mr. Compress responding. This line helps manage the pacing, giving the audience an idea how much time is passing as we cut around to different places. It’s also, you know, more cut Spinner dialogue, and shows the beginnings of Shigaraki and Spinner getting split off from the rest by Shigaraki’s sleep-drunk staggering angling him off in a different direction. The rest of the scene is moved to after Toga’s fight with Curious, but not otherwise tampered with.

• The other big reaction to Curious’s death, which is Trumpet using it to rile up the crowd. The group that attacks Shigaraki isn’t just some free-roaming mob—they’re coming at him in a grief-stricken frenzy, which they’ve been goaded into by one of their leaders.           This sequence also introduces the campaign van—a vehicle that will have several more appearances—to events, and hints at Trumpet’s meta-ability. Further, it’s one of the scenes that outright states that the MLA is less an army than a religion, in Mr. Compress’s line about how Trumpet is like a preacher rallying his flock. That understanding—that the MLA may style themselves as an army, but what they really are is a cult—is key to the way the MLA members act, from the very bottom to the very top.

• Trimmed Shigaraki’s flashback down, cutting—among other things—the very first lines Hana speaks, and her namedrop. This moment is the first one Tomura gets back, and the very first thing we find out is that he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. The anime also failed to identify Shimura Nana’s relation to Tenko/Tomura and Hana—helpful to remind the audience of a plot thread they haven’t heard about since Kamino. It also cut out the silhouette of chubby baby Tenko and Tenko’s first line, asking why Hana’s showing him this, a line which clues us in that Hana was the impetus here, not Shigaraki as he was back then. Still not satisfied, it also cut the phrase, “Daddy said all that stuff,” which is a clear and ominous warning that there was some conflict going on between young Shigaraki and the Father whose dismembered hand he now wears on his face.

• Left the dialogue but cut the silhouette of an airborne Geten with his enormous ice fists coming in hot behind Dabi when he was smarming about it not being his style to take the pacifist route. It’s not crucial, since we see the fists again shortly (it’s the end of the chapter page, whereas the anime rolls right on into the continuation of the scene), but it’s a shame, since framing Dabi from below with this sudden presence behind him is a much more fun, dynamic angle than the dead-boring medium shot the anime used. Also too, it’s good foreshadowing for the fact that Geten can fly, since he certainly didn’t get that kind of air by jumping off the roof of the mini-mart across the street.

Framing Shifts

• The crowd attacking Tomura came at him from the back of the shot, whereas in the manga, they’re surging forth from the front; that is, the anime had Shigaraki between the crowd and the POV of the viewer, whereas the manga has the crowd interposing between the viewer and Shigaraki. It makes a huge difference in the impact! Running up from a nebulous background distance, the crowd looked small and futile. Crossing directly in front of the viewer as they attack Shigaraki makes them look like the crashing human wave that they are. But, you know, coming in from the front would mean they’d have to be animated with more detail, and again, Episode 109, more than any other episode in the arc, clearly didn’t have the budget to spare on such things.

• The moment Shigaraki first uses the spreading Decay is horrifically clear in the manga. It’s full of speed lines, Shigaraki moving so fast he decays a dude mid-word, but the impact itself is spread over two pages. We watch his hand literally cleaving through the leading attacker’s face, and then are encouraged to linger on the oversized panel below, the intricately drawn crowd, full of individual faces, still intact on the left, scattering to dust on the right, all fully lit, with Shigaraki—still drawn with speedlines to emphasize his movement—the focal figure in black at the center.           The anime rendered this moment in two stills—Shigaraki’s hand about to hit the lead attacker’s face, and then the crowd already decaying. There was virtually no movement to it, the crowd was so heavily silhouetted against a glare of daylight that it was difficult to tell what was going on, and the moment stayed on screen for only two seconds before Shigaraki landed and threw up, both actions favored with more animation than one of the signature moments of the entire arc. Hell, it even left the walls on either side of the alley intact, when the manga shows them dissolving into ash as well, decay traveling through the ground in a deadly, destructive radius around Shigaraki’s attack.           The anime ever-so-graciously allowed Spinner his line to explain to the audience what just happened, but I think that’s mostly because it would be genuinely difficult to parse if he didn’t. It also gave him a flashback to what we had literally just seen, except this time it wasn’t silhouetted for some reason, so at least the audience got another chance to look at it, I guess?           “Am I seeing things? Just now, his decay effect spread to people he wasn’t even touching!” Well, I guess we’ll have to take your word for it, Spinner.

Additions

• A quick shot of a camera, there and gone almost too fast to register. I want to compliment the anime for adding a camera back in, since it removed the shot of the cameras earlier, but honestly, given that it cut all the scenes about how and why the MLA was gathering footage, I really don’t know why it even bothered. Also too, the camera was gone so fast it felt more like a marker for a scene change—which it also was, segueing the scene from Toga collapsing (only to cut back to her later staggering down an alley) to Spinner and the rest still trying to hold their own—than it did something the audience was supposed to really notice.

Chapter 228 – Wounded Soul

• Twice in the opening pages left out scattered members of the MLA that were around for the start of the Dabi/Geten fight. Leaving them out raises the question of where all the people attacking went, but it’s also the first demonstration that Geten is a danger to his own allies. We don’t see any of them dying on-panel or anything, but we do see them having to dive frantically out of the way because Geten demonstrates no care to the collateral damage of his attacks.

• Cut a small flashback, presumably from Twice’s perspective, of finding the site where Toga and Curious’s fight concluded. You can see the ground covered in blood, and a body that looks a bit like Curious if you squint (distinguishable by the sleeves of her jacket), as well as a small group of people kneeling on the ground in various poses suggesting mourning and a paying of respects. Yet another shot demonstrating the depths of care these people have for their leaders, that they’ve completely let the battle fall by the wayside in favor of their grief.

• Drops the “those zealots” phrase from Twice’s, “I’ll rip those zealots limb from limb for this!” line. Damn, the anime really was determined to erase everything that even hints at the Liberation Army being something much creepier and more damaging than just an underground militia, huh?

Framing Shifts

• For all my complaints about the material, I generally like the voice acting quite a bit. I don’t love the first exchange between Dabi and Geten, though. It’s not a fault of the voice actors themselves, but rather the delivery. Geten was very cool and level-headed throughout, which is all right to a point, but he’s a gremlin under that troll parka, and this fight is where we hear him as close as we ever will to how he is before the multi-layered humbling he’s subject to over the course of this fight. It’s a bit of a shame to play him totally straight, without any of the snark he’s so clearly capable of—and without the tick upwards in vehemence his talk bubbles indicate in his last lines.           Meanwhile, it’s fine for Dabi to get more heated as the scene goes along, and indeed he does, but he also plays it pretty cool at first. You can tell in the shape of his talk bubbles that he’s completely unruffled during his delivery of that, “Consider this a freebie, just for you: ice melts,” line. The anime had him raising his voice for it, and it just loses a lot of the humor of Dabi’s own snark to have him yelling it instead of just laughingly stating it, voice barely raising enough to give his talk bubbles some straighter lines instead of being all undisturbed curves. (For comparison’s sake, it’s about the same level of angular as Geten’s, “You’d best not think your little campfire can melt my ice!” line, but the anime had Dabi shout his line, while Geten continued at the same unperturbed volume he’d maintained since the beginning.)

• As with Shigaraki’s first mass decay, the shot of Geten’s ice dragon did not make the impact on me in the anime that the manga did. I think it’s mostly the way the ice was colored? The claw’s pretty good, but the head looks blobby and indistinct, more like blue soft-serve than the shifting, sharp-edged, brilliantly bright sculpture-in-motion of the manga.

• Twice’s voice actor did his best to sell the scene of him finding Toga, but I wish they’d kept that tight close-up on his mouth when he says, “Give it up. The girl’s dead.” They animated him leaning closer to the camera, but that doesn’t have the sharpness of that sudden cut to being right there on his lips, like some malevolent thing is using them to speak words so terrible that they can’t even be associated with the rest of his face.

                                                          ---

Come back next time (and hopefully in less time) for Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade.

FOOTNOTES

[1] We would, of course, have an even clearer idea of that had the anime not cut the scene of Spinner shouting in Shigaraki’s face.

[2] It seems particularly strange to me that Curious and RD both mention quirk evolution as a thing they know can happen in extreme circumstances, but didn’t predict that backing the League into a life-or-death corner might provoke one or two members to undergo exactly that evolution.

[3] Mount Lady is the obvious example, but you can look to places like the island in Heroes Rising, too: one hero, and when they retired, a group of high school kids had to go sub in for a while until a replacement could be arranged. It’s not like retirements just happen overnight; the Commission had to have known it was coming. Still, they had to scramble to find someone. It doesn’t suggest they had anybody just champing at the bit to take the post, you know?

[4] In Chapter 140, we see a young Tamaki Amajiki in a class called “quirk training.” It’s uncertain how connected this P.E.-like class is to quirk counseling, but Toga wouldn’t have been getting much help there, either, seeing as it’s all about figuring out how to use one’s quirk in a way that’s “useful to society.” I can think of some ways, but nothing that I expect would be very popular or liable to be explained to a grade schooler in a country with as long a history with ritual cleanliness as Japan. To a Shinto mindset, Transformation isn’t just off-putting or unhygienic; it’s spiritually unclean.

[5] The answer there being, no, obviously not, or Curious wouldn’t, in all apparent sincerity, be trying to characterize Toga using her quirk to murder people as an undesirable outcome, a cost society is paying for its current stance on quirk use. Yes, you can gather that much from her calling Toga a tragic girl, and Re-Destro concurring later, but listen, I will take every line I can get that I can use to push back against the wretchedly widespread idea that the kid whose name means Apocrypha is the be-all-end-all source on MLA ideology, somehow more reliable and trustworthy than every other MLA character combined, including Destro himself. I would very much like it if the anime had not deleted a bunch of my talking points while making good and sure to leave all Geten’s most damning lines intact.

[6] Not that an anime-only person would fully understand why some random reporter was all that valuable a resource, since the anime cut the explanation of what Curious actually does for a living.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 58 - Golden Age

Title: Irreverent Pt. 58 - Golden Age

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~5K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You stare at the closed door to McKinney's office, shifting once again in the seat. You'd been there for what felt like hours, though reasonably speaking it was closer to thirty minutes. Beside you, Aaron sat stoically calm, his shoulders pressed to the chair, back straight. He eyes you when you shift and reaches out, placing a hard on yours that was sat against the armrest. You meet his eyes for a second, knowing he was simply trying to calm the anxiety in your bones. It was no use – your gaze wanders back to the heavy closed oak door once more.

You'd arrived at McKinney's office early that morning, as directed to in the email sent by Gladys. Both Rossi and Aaron had received similar instructions and when you'd arrived, Gladys had waved Rossi into the room, stating that the Director would like to speak to him on his own first, and asked you and Aaron to take a seat.

You knew that McKinney and Rossi went way back. They'd done training together and worked in organized crime for a couple years before going their separate ways. You can only imagine that McKinney wanted Rossi's take on Pierce's take down and to perhaps run his ruling for you by someone whom he trusted and who would be able to comment on you personally. That was your hope, at the very least.

You knew Aaron thought the same as you, because he hadn't seemed put out by being told to wait. He too recognized that McKinney not delivering judgment against you in one fell swoop could only be a good thing. It meant he was thinking it over, getting other opinions. He'd had time to evaluate through the course of events and the idea was that he would see greater value in keeping you – see that everything you'd done had been strategic and purposeful.

Gladys had directed you both towards the coffee in the little waiting area outside the office, which you'd both politely declined. Now she was clattering away against the keyboard and fielding pretty much nonstop phone calls.

You turn your stare from the door, back to Aaron, whose eyes are fixed on you. He prompts you with a slight raise of his eyebrows, his hand still blanketing yours, thumb running back and forth soothingly.

"We should take another vacation," you whisper conspiratorially, speaking as though the idea of you two going on vacation together might scandalize someone listening in.

He bites back a smile but you can see the amusement dance across his eyes. He knows you're trying to distract yourself. Your shoulders are still taut and you've barely glanced away from McKinney's door since the two of you sat down. "Where'd you have in mind?" he asks, leaning down towards you and matching your covert tone. If a distraction was what you needed, then he'd play along.

"Bora Bora is nice this time of year. Hawaii maybe. Somewhere tropical with a childcare center," you joke, easily planting images of you and him on a beach by yourselves into Aaron's head.

"Better yet, an adults only resort," he smirks back, sitting straight once more, his eyes facing straight.

You're the one who has to bite back the smile now. He'd responded with barely a glance at you. Onlookers might've thought he'd commented on the weather. Only you could guess at the thoughts running through his mind right then – waves and sand, you in skimpy bathing suits, the two of you alone without having to worry about waking Jack up...

God it had been forever.

You can feel yourself become heated and have to stop that train of thought short, reminding yourself that you're still seated outside the Director's office, awaiting what is at best a disciplinary hearing and at worst a dismissal notice.

"We'll go," he promises, squeezing your hand gently.

You nod, leaning against his shoulder ever so slightly before straightening back up once more. Aaron had been quiet that morning, which you're chalking up to the solemnity of the occasion. The previous night had been quite a lot and you know that you're both still feeling a bit raw from it all. Better – in many ways. Stronger too. However that didn't mean that you expect everything to be washed away overnight. You imagine there's quite a few more conversations like that in your future. The work needed to help you both feel whole once more.

Already, you feel his eyes on you a lot more than ever before. Trained on you when you leave a room. Searching yours when you enter. Eyes trailing over the length of you. Ensuring that you're alright. Making sure that you're safe. Confirming that you're there.

*------------*

The door to McKinney's office opens and you both watch as Rossi exits. He turns to the both of you, obviously in attempt to speak, but before he can, he's directed by Gladys towards the door taking him outside of McKinney's lobby. Following her instructions, he walks out, nodding at both you and Aaron, his face betraying nothing.

"Agent Hotchner, the Director will see you now."

At Glady's instruction, Aaron stands rebuttoning the bottom button of his jacket, and with a quick, reassuring smile towards you, strides through the doors to McKinney's office, closing the door behind him.

"Agent Hotchner," Director McKinney stands to greet him, motioning towards the chair in front of his desk.

"Director."

Aaron takes a seat, sitting up incredibly straight, shoulders rigidly tense. He knows that McKinney asking to speak to him before he speaks to you has certain implications. Implications which, he fears, don't bode well if McKinney's goal is to prod at you choosing to reach out to him and the team rather than your direct supervisor on the project. If you would go around him once, chances are, you'd do it again.

Try as he might, Aaron hasn't been able to determine what exactly McKinney aims to get from speaking with him first. He hadn't been your superior on the assignment. Your personal relationship with him effectively negated anything Aaron could say in your favor.

"Aaron, I will cut straight to the chase." McKinney speaks authoritatively and plainly, his eyes focused on Aaron, betraying nothing of what he's thinking. Even to an experienced profiler such as himself. "Agent L/N broke numerous rules regarding the chain of command, defied security clearance protocols, and acted alone – entirely against Bureau training and procedure."

Aaron stays silent. McKinney hadn't said anything that wasn't true and they both knew it.

"However," McKinney continues, "I must concede that she drew results and ultimately is the reason why the threat to the Atlantis program was eliminated."

Aaron offers only a short nod in response, choosing to hold everything else close to his chest until required otherwise.

McKinney shuffles, placing his hands on the table and leaning in closer. "If this was one of your agents – and you did not share the personal relationship that you do in this situation – what would you do in my position?"

There it was.

Aaron would like to think that Director McKinney was being sincere in asking him. That asking him wasn't some sort of trick question, aimed towards discrediting you.

With a quiet shift, Aaron meets McKinney's gaze head on, and begins to speak slowly. "Director, I've made the mistake before of not trusting one of my agents. I vowed to never make that mistake again. Agent L/N, she's proven – time and again – that she makes the right decisions, no matter the complicated subject matter or the potential personal nature of the circumstances."

Aaron stops there. Less was more. He wanted to make sure whatever he said to McKinney would be impactful. Display the full breadth of his faith in you.

McKinney has a thoughtful look on his face as he contemplates Aaron's words.

In the silence that follows, Aaron's eye is drawn to the Director's American flag pin on the left jacket collar. He's never seen without it. While Directors in the past have worn the pin for formal events – public speeches, Congressional hearings, White House balls – McKinney is always seen with his. Aaron recalls in the early days, when McKinney had first taken the reins, the pin used to be different. It used to be a pin of the Bureau seal. Sometime after the events of September 11th, it had changed. Replaced by the American flag pin, proudly displayed no matter where he went.

Aaron sees McKinney's shoulders move up and then back down as the man releases a large breath, nodding as he does, seemingly having reached some sort of conclusion. Aaron is at a loss to determine which conclusion that might be.

He doesn't share his thoughts with Aaron.

"I've forwarded the video that Agent Garcia shared, on to the Director of Interpol," McKinney informs him. "They will be conducting an internal investigation. Agent Easter has already been stripped of all privileges and is currently on a suspension until further determinations regarding his negligence on the Atlantis case along with the results of the internal review can be made."

Aaron's glad to hear that Easter wouldn't be getting away entirely scot free. He has a strong feeling that, had things not happened exactly the way that they did, you wouldn't have reported Easter for what he did to you. Aaron – fortunately or unfortunately – knows you well enough to realize that there was a small part of you that considered what Easter had done, to be some sort of favor to you. Making you understand what was at stake. Preparing you for the worst. He doesn't need to hear you admit to it, in order to know that. Anything he said to the contrary would only result in you doubling down and insisting, that without him threatening Jack and Aaron, you might not have realized exactly how grave of a danger your role could pose to them.

You could be quite maddening in what you chose to direct your fury at. Easter lying to you was unforgiveable. Him torturing you – apparently par for the course.

"Thank you." Aaron nods his gratitude to McKinney, knowing that he is also being effectively dismissed as the Director moves to stand.

Standing as well, Aaron meets McKinney's outstretched hand across the table, shaking it quickly, before turning away and exiting the room.

*------------*

The door closes behind you with a heavy thud.

Aaron had nodded you in towards McKinney's office, electing to ignore Gladys's gesture to exit via the lobby and taking your recently vacated seat. He wasn't about to leave. He'd be there, waiting for you.

"Good morning Director." You offer a small smile and nod your greeting to McKinney, taking the seat in front of his desk.

Your shoulders are pulled back straight, you're meeting his unreadable gaze head on. Aaron hadn't been able to provide any insight into McKinney's thoughts before you were ushered in, so there you sat, awaiting the gauntlet.

You're fairly convinced McKinney will fire you. Aaron disagrees but you've had the unshakeable apprehension in your bones, that's grown into a nebula of dread. No matter your brave words to Aaron about saying no to Director Richards' offer and taking a break if you were indeed terminated, the actual thought of being dismissed is terrifying. What on earth would you even do? There were only so many bake sales to host and field trips to chaperone before you went postal.

"How are you doing?" he asks, leaning back in his chair and appraising you.

You feel McKinney's eyes run over you in an inspecting manner, lingering on your face. You know him well enough to recognize this as genuine concern on his behalf. Garcia had mentioned that she'd sent him the video they'd all seen of what Clyde had done to you. You're aware that McKinney would shoulder some of the blame for that on himself.

"Better," you answer cautiously, figuring that was close enough to the truth without being a mere perfunctory response.

He eyes you once more, letting the quiet wash over you both, forcing you to linger in that awkward tension of being examined by him. The seconds go by, marked by the loud click of the seconds hand on the clock mounted to the wall.

Deciding that he'd made you suffer long enough, McKinney leans in again, fingers interlaced on top of the desk carefully, deep set eyes focused on you alone. "So, you have a job offer from Artie?"

Who the hell was Artie?!

At the confused look on your face, he clarifies, "Director Richards – Arthur and I go back. Did you know that?"

You can see the suppressed smirk hidden beneath a veneer of professionalism as McKinney leans back in the chair once more, having left you to silently ponder at the incredulity of anyone referring to Director Richards as Artie and the sheer surprise at McKinney knowing about the job offer. When you'd considered them speaking, you hadn't thought that Richards would mention that. Though, it made sense. Tell your current boss that you have another offer. Make you look bad to McKinney, as though you'd been soliciting an offer from the CIA. Ensure that you'd want to leave for the Agency instead, by souring your relationship with McKinney.

"You call Director Richards…Artie?" It was the only thing you could think of to say, at a loss for much else.

"You think you're the only one he takes to fancy French restaurants?" This time, McKinney's words are accompanied by a real smile, one that you can't help but return.

*------------*

Aaron starts when the door to McKinney's office reopens and you exit. He'd had his gaze locked on the door ever since you disappeared behind it, anxiously awaiting the final decision. Despite his relatively good meeting with the Director, he didn't know what to expect as the outcome.

Your eyes lock with his, your expression entirely unreadable. Silently, you motion towards the exit with your eyes, the message clear. Whatever happened, you two wouldn't be discussing it there.

Aaron quickly stands, nodding towards McKinney's assistant when she looks up at the movement. He's quick to follow you as you make your way down the hallway, deftly moving past anyone in the hallways. He's loathe to ask what happened. The journey from McKinney's office has his heart beating fast, as he reckons with what news could have led to you moving through the hallways at such a pace, him struggling to keep up as you maneuver through a break room full of people, finally arriving at an unused office, into which you slip with him close behind.

You wait for him to enter, before shutting the door while he turns to look towards you. You've turned as well, back pressed against the door when Aaron finally has the chance to assess you properly.

Your eyes dart around the room, not meeting his. Your lips are pressed together.

Aaron feels the pit in his stomach tighten into a lead ball, weighing him down. It would be alright, he reminds himself. He had known you being let go was a possibility. The two of you have planned for this.

He releases a deep breath before he speaks. "What did McKinney say?"

Your tongue peaks out, running over your lips as you tilt your head to meet his eyes finally. Apprehension exuding from you as you nervously fidget with your hands. He sees you force yourself to swallow before you reply.

"He told me that I can hand in my official resignation from the BAU to you."

Aaron closes his eyes. He had thought, after his conversation with McKinney, that the Director had no intention of letting you go. He'd never been quite so off on reading someone.

Opening his eyes, he looks deep into yours. "Alright," he nods, attempting to reassure you as well as himself. "We knew this could happen." Already a thousand different scenarios are playing in his head – telling the team, next steps for you, what you're going to want to do after you grow tired of the break, maybe he needs to take a step back as well…

"We can appeal it, sweetheart," he reminds you. The two of you had discussed that as a possible option as well. He walks towards you, wanting nothing more than to hold you close to him again. "We can appeal – Rossi, Morgan, hell even Strauss would put in a good word for you. McKinney's word isn't final, and – "

Aaron breaks off his mile a minute speech, distracted at the sight of a smile twitching at your lips. Why were you smiling?

"He told me to hand in my letter of resignation to the BAU," you repeat yourself as he falters, trying to understand what you're saying. He asked you to give him the letter of resignation from the BAU…

"I'm getting my own team, Aaron," you whisper, as if you could scarcely believe it yourself.

You were getting your own team. You were getting…your own team.

"You're getting – " His mouth can't seem to quite get the words out as he watches your face split into a grin that his is slow to mirror.

Of all the possibilities that you'd considered, this had hardly been one of them.

"I'm getting my own team," you repeat, eyes focused fully on him. You have the largest smile he's ever seen on your face.  He can  feel that pit replaced by this bouncy feeling in his chest as he looks at your face –the bubble of the moment broken by the laughter and squeal that follows as he sweeps you into his arms.

This was good.

You were happy.

*------------*

"I think this is the last box," Aaron says, striding into your office, eyeing you cautiously as you're balanced atop your chair, trying to hang up some of the frames with your certificates on the wall.

You mutter a quick thank you, concentrating on hammering the nail in without hurting yourself by falling off of the wheeled chair. Aaron moves to start putting the books he'd brought up into the bookshelves, hovering close to you in case you did end up slipping.

It had been a week since McKinney had offered you your own team as a counter to Richards' offer from the CIA. Turns out, as long as you get results, the government tends to look the other way when you break any number of clearance regulations. Your conversation with McKinney in his office that day had been entirely centered around what he could do to ensure that you stay with the Bureau.

Intelligence and Threat Assessment, or the ITA, was a group within the Bureau that examined any number of domestic and international threats, analyzed changing political spheres, and partnered with the Justice Department, Congress, and external organizations to spearhead the American democratic manifesto. In short, that was the group that determined who was and wasn't an enemy.

McKinney had offered you your own team within that umbrella to tackle special cases that rose to the level of further assessment by or direct involvement of the Bureau. The sight of your name, followed by the words Unit Chief would never get old.  

You'd had a busy week, settling back into regular life, catching up with everyone, and ensuring that you were spending time with Jack and Aaron once more. In that time, you'd also put out the word that you were building a new team and connected with the Bureau Human Resources department. Interviews were being set up. Thankfully you had one team member picked out – from your office, you can see the bullpen where your team will sit, Anderson's desk the only one occupied so far.

"So Strauss is retiring," Aaron comments idly, opening yet another box of items for you to decorate your office with.

You hum, encouraging him to continue, as you carefully get off the chair and grab one of the boxes, setting it on your desk. You'd long shed your blazer and the heels had come off ten minutes ago when Aaron had left to grab the last of the boxes. It was late anyways and you two were the last ones left, as you'd insisted on wanting to be all moved in so you could get a head start the following Monday. As soon as the two of you were done moving you into your new office, you couldn't wait to get home and sink into the tub.

"Rossi thinks it'll happen by the end of the month," he continues, handing you the box cutter you'd been searching for.

"Well, your only real competition could be external," you remark, handing him back the box cutter. You know that Aaron wouldn't have commented on Strauss's retirement if he wasn't considering the Section Chief position. With your new role keeping you closer to home a majority of the time, it would make your home life a lot more stable.

He makes a disbelieving sort of noise at your comment that has you smiling and rolling your eyes.

"Oh hush," you chide him, continuing to move things off of the box and into the shelf. "Now, if we have to consider the hiring committee for the position, then it'll be Wilson and Shaw – both of whom already like you – "

Aaron smiles as you start to lay out all the details for a role he's only mentioned in passing, but he knows that you will take entirely seriously. It's what you did. You planned and you executed and you achieved at a rate that was entirely remarkable.

" – Adams is a total pushover, and Rossi can probably help you out there –"

He smiles, nodding along to your strategizing, knowing you'd have Dave over for dinner soon enough and run Aaron's odds for getting the position by him and ensure that Dave would throw his weight around as needed.

"Davidson is the only one on the committee that'll pose any real issue, I suppose. I'm guessing you two haven't made nice yet after the Atlanta case?" You quirk a brow in his direction, asking a question that you already know the answer to. Really, it's your way of making sure he feels like he's part of the process, despite you being full systems ahead from the get go.

Aaron's forehead crinkles as he shakes his head.

"Yeah, I figured. Well, it's nothing to worry about. I heard from Lisa from research that he has a new girlfriend –  one that drives his ex-wife entirely insane. Garcia can do some additional digging and get some more dirt."

He makes a face at you, which you elect to ignore, continuing on with your plan for targeted subterfuge.

"We can have them both over for dinner. I just got that new shipment from the Napa winery and we can ask Eric to cook for us again. He can make that dessert, and based on what Garcia manages to find, Davidson shouldn't be terribly difficult to persuade. After all, how could anyone not love you." You throw him a coquettish smile and wink, your arms laden with books that you'd lifted out of the box.

Aaron can feel himself grow warm – you tend to have that effect on him with only the smallest of gestures. The ever faithful butterflies, his constant companions in the early days of the two of you entering into this relationship, have infiltrated his stomach with a vengeance.

"Once you're Section Chief, we can figure out Department Chief next. Carlton won't be around forever," you forge ahead, intent now on your plan to launch his career to the next phase and the next after that. Pretty soon you'd be planning world domination with him by your side. You'd manage to convince him that it was alright because he'd be the one in charge and he makes good decisions so why wouldn't the entire world simply bow to his will. No matter how ridiculous the notion or how bizarre the proposition, your faith in him was unyielding.

Aaron reaches into his pocket, feeling the sharp edges of the box there. It's been on hand this entire week since your return, just waiting for him to find the right time. His heartrate picks up, his hand grasping the box tight.  

Your back is still turned to him as you continue to arrange the books on your shelf in order of subject and size, going up on the tip of your toes to reach the top shelf as your voice carries on. Something regarding convincing Carlton that he would be well suited for a jump to the West Coast offices, leaving the pathway wide open for Aaron's surge to the top.

"Do you remember," he interrupts, watching you carefully, "a while back, you said something to me. Something along the lines of, Director Hotchner has a nice ring to it?" He does his best to keep his voice casual, regulate his breath as he speaks.

You pause, the memory of that afternoon flitting into your mind. So early in your relationship, back when you'd thought that maybe, that would be something appealing to a man like Aaron – ambitious and righteous, wanting to protect and serve at the highest of levels. That had been before  – before you'd known, that for him, the BAU was the chance to put away monsters. It was a personal mandate that he couldn't disconnect himself from. Contending with the bureaucracy and politics that came with truly running the entire Bureau was not something that he found at all appealing. Despite all of your planning and machinations, you knew already that the best you could hope for with him would be Section Chief. He'd never leave the team further than that, no matter the number of steak dinners you served up.

"Yeah, what about it?" you ask, a bemused smile playing at your lips, wondering why he'd ask you that. He'd shot it down then, and you knew for a fact that it wasn't something he was about to begin entertaining now, despite the Section Chief role being a shift away from the BAU directly.  

"I can't help but agree with you."

His voice was closer than it had been before, you can feel him right behind you. There's a prickling at the back of your neck, your brows furrowing in confusion as you attempt to decipher the meaning behind his cryptic words.

You turn, eyes widening at the sight in front of you.

Bent down on one knee, with the most beautiful ring in his hand. The gold in his eyes warm and sparkling for you. A hopeful smile on his face as he watches yours.

You could scarcely believe it as you struggle to meet his eyes, trying to string together something that sounded vaguely intelligible, while your lungs struggled to pull in enough air to keep you standing.

Your mouth feels dry and you have to force yourself to take a deep breath, licking your lips as you do. You push away the first question that comes to your mind – Are you sure? Of course he was. There was no doubting it. No doubting him.

When your eyes finally do meet his, your breath hitches, overwhelmed by the surrounding quiet, only the sound of your breath and your heart and the wondrous, exuberant buzzing of the sparks surrounding you in anticipation of the inevitable.

"You really think I'm going to be Director one day?" Your question is accompanied by an incredulous sort of laugh, the kind that causes his heart to skip a beat at the mere sound.

"I really do, sweetheart." His words carried with them a promise – he was pledging himself to you and anything you set out to achieve.

You feel yourself bound towards a feeling you haven't felt much as of late. Elation – that euphoric ecstasy that courses through your veins and causes your chest to beat wildly. You can do nothing but smile big and nod hard, for once, words completely failing you.

Aaron needs no further encouragement besides the sparkling note of your laugh, the effervescent joy of your nod as you reach for him and he rises. He's quick to slip the ring on your finger before his mouth meets yours, hands winding around his neck and pulling him as close as possible.

Hearts beating jubilantly in sync at the feel of his lips against yours and his arms around you, yours around him, and that persistent and everlasting feeling of belonging to one another in every manner possible.

When the two of you finally break apart, breathless, matching grins on both your faces, you can't help but ask. "How long has Jack known?"

He smiles, his eyes twinkling. "Since Paris."

You let out a breathless, short laugh. You can scarcely believe he'd been able to keep it from you that long. Though, looking back, a number of instances with Jack made a lot more sense now. The faint memory a shopping trip with him, sometime after Paris, when Jack had been quite taken with the window display of a wedding store.

"We might have to do a reenactment for him," Aaron jokes, keeping you close to him. He weaves his fingers through yours, admiring how the ring sits perfectly on your hand, sparkling just right in the light.

You laugh, tightening your hand in his. "Let's go home then."

Everything else could wait.

[animezing-fandoms]

Willow

Masterlist

Relationships: Nalu

Warnings: Blood, injury, stabbing (basically there’s a fight and injuries are sustained but it’s not graphic detail) Implied/referenced lemon. Abusive parents (Jude’s a real bad parent in this AU) 

Summary: During a job with team Natsu, Lucy gets hit in the head and wakes up in a dream where she's a princess who runs away from home to be with her lover, the half-dragon half-human Count Natsu Dragneel.

A/N: So I had this wild dream one night about nalu and decided to write it as a fic. I hope it isn’t too crazy! And yes I also incorporated some lyrics from Taylor Swift’s Willow. Enjoy! 

----------------------

“I am seriously starting to regret taking this job with you guys!” Lucy wails.

She was currently on a job with Team Natsu. The job seemed simple enough on paper. They just needed to find a rare crystal in a forest. Sounds easy right? Well, the client forgot to mention that this forest has weird clearings that need to be crossed in order to get to the crystal, and giant killer eagles that attack you when you’re in the clearings! 

That’s why Lucy was currently running for her life, heading for the tree-line. She dares to look over her shoulder and instantly regrets it when she sees one of those eagles swooping down towards her. 

Before it can grab her, Natsu kicks it with his fire dragon’s claw and then scoops Lucy up in his arms bridal style and they leap into the tree-line as another eagle swoops by, just missing them. 

Natsu looks down and sees Lucy breathing heavily with her face buried in his scarf. 

“Lucy are you okay?” He asks her softly. 

At the sound of his voice Lucy turns to look at his face and blushes. 

“Y-yeah I’m fine.” She replies softly. 

As her fear began to fade a new feeling was arising. Well it wasn’t entirely new. She’d felt this before. A warm feeling in her chest and butterflies in her stomach. She felt like this whenever she was close to Natsu. And she knew what it meant, she had felt it before whenever a cute guy got close to her. But Natsu wasn’t a potential boyfriend? That ship had sailed after she got all dressed up to meet him in the park to dig for holes instead of a date.

He clearly doesn’t think about her in that way. And even if he did, she never would have known from the look on his face. 

So she shouldn’t think of him that way either. He could be really annoying sometimes. Breaking into her apartment, wrecking her plans. And yet, sometimes at night with her head on the pillow she could feel him sneaking in. 

He was like some mythical thing. And not because he was created as a demon, was taught dragon slayer magic and time traveled 400 years to be with her now. To be with her now...

As she looks at him she wishes she could know what he’s thinking. 

There’s one prize I’d cheat to win. 

“Oooo Lucy’s blushing!” Happy teases pulling Lucy from her thoughts. “I think she’s in lo-“ 

“Shut it cat!” Lucy retorts before Happy can finish. 

“I agree with Lucy. Now is not the time for jokes.” Erza says seriously as Natsu sets Lucy down. “We have one more clearing to cross before we can reach the willow tree that holds the crystal.” 

“Another one!?” Lucy exclaims. “We can’t find some other way around?” 

“Unfortunately we can’t.” Erza says. “Our only option is to run for it and fight too if need be.” 

Lucy looks past the tree-line to see the large willow tree on the other side. It would be a long, dangerous sprint. She takes in a shaky breath then exhales when she feels a warm hand slide into hers. 

She turns to see Natsu smiling at her. But not with that goofy grin he usually wore. This time, he was smiling at her softly with an endearing look on his face, as if he was looking at something precious. Her heart was pounding and she could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Don’t worry Lucy. I won’t let any of those birds hurt you.” He promises.

Lucy smiles back at him. 

“Thanks Natsu.” Lucy says. 

“Alright now let’s go fry up some chicken!” Natsu shouts and runs into the clearing.

“Natsu wait!” Wendy shouts after him.

“That idiot! We were supposed to come up with a plan together first!” Gray exclaims.

“Well it’s too late for that now!” Erza says with a frustrated sigh before drawing her sword and following him.

Lucy figures that Natsu’s plan was to draw all of the attention to himself, so that the rest of them could sneak past. And that would have been a good plan if they weren’t in an open clearing. There was nowhere to hide and now they were all spread out. And there were more birds this time too! 

What’s worse is that these birds were quicker. Lucy knows that if she slows down to summon a spirit, she’d surely get picked up and carried away! And she was definitely having a few close calls right now.

I thought Natsu said he would protect me? She thinks to herself as another bird swoops low.

Lucy was almost at the willow though. Just right through those branches and then she’d be safe! 

But she was so focused on getting there that she didn’t see the branch hanging down from one of the other trees in her path! And as soon as she made it there, she smacked her head on the branch and everything went black.

—————————

When Lucy awoke, she was laying under the willow tree all alone, her companions nowhere to be found. 

As she rose to sit up she found that her head was in no pain from getting hit, like she had never hit it in the first place. And the killer birds were nowhere to be found either.

She gently brushes the leaves off of the long purple skirts of her corseted dress as she tries to remember what she was doing out here in the woods. 

“Did you rest well Princess?” A familiar voice asks and Lucy smiles.

“Virgo!” She exclaims, happy to see her face. 

Suddenly her memories of how she wound up in this situation came flooding back to her. She, Princess Lucy Heartfilia of the kingdom of Fiore was betrothed to a man she did not love by her father who cared little for her happiness. So she ran away with the help of her most trusted maid Virgo, to a place where she knew she would be safe. The territory that was home to the man she truly loved. Thinking of him made her chest feel warm, yet she could not picture his face at the moment. Nor his name. 

“Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark.” 

Those were the instructions he gave Virgo. She waited for the signal. A dragon flew over the castle, casting a dark shadow over it to give she and Virgo cover as they escaped. 

And now it was dark. She was in the place. But her man was nowhere to be found. 

“Have we made across the border to the Dragon’s Forest yet Virgo?” Lucy asks eagerly. 

“We should have, if that is the Dragon’s Roar River.” Virgo says, pointing at the rushing white-water river that was behind them. 

Lucy couldn’t begin to think of how they managed to cross it. But she wasn’t as interested in figuring that out as she was about another matter. 

“If we’re really in the forest then he should have known I’m here and come by now. Unless I was napping for a shorter time than I thought...” Lucy says.

“Hmm...well it could be the second river further up ahead?” Virgo says and looks ahead. “Perhaps we should continue to move inward onto his territory, just to be sure we’re in the right place.”

“I agree.” Lucy says and brings herself to stand, brushing the dirt off of her skirts.

Then fear grips her heart as she hears horses whinnying nearby, followed by men’s voices shouting. 

“No...” She mutters as she turns to see a carriage followed by a group of soldiers crossing a bridge over the river.

A few of the soldiers ahead of the carriage began to approach with their spears drawn. 

“There’s the princess! King Jude, we found her and the traitorous maid!” The soldiers shout as Lucy and Virgo turn to run away. 

As Lucy desperately hiked up her skirts to run away, she regrets not changing into a different outfit. These large skirts definitely weren’t made for running away from danger in the woods. But once she and Virgo had discovered what her father’s plans for her were, there was no time to change. They had to leave immediately to get to the one person Lucy knew could protect her. And as the soldiers surround her and Virgo, and her father approaches them, Lucy hopes that he’ll come soon.

“Daughter, have you gone mad!” Lucy’s father, King Jude exclaims. 

“I could ask you the same thing!” Lucy bravely retorts. 

She may be surrounded by soldiers and facing the man who had been controlling her life since she was a child. But if he was going to lock her away in the castle and force her to marry a man she didn’t love, then she won’t succumb to that fate without a fight. 

“You’re saying I’m the one at fault!” Jude exclaims. “You snuck out of the castle on the night of the ball being held to announce your engagement because you trust in the counsel of some lunatic maid over that of your own father! And now I find you here with that maid trespassing on dragon’s territory! And you think I’m the one who’s mad!” 

The anger behind his words made tears sting at the corners of Lucy’s eyes, but she wouldn’t back down from this fight. She couldn’t. There was too much at stake. 

“What kind of father would ignore the happiness of his own daughter and make such a huge decision for her without even asking her what she thinks!” Lucy exclaims. 

“Because a father knows what’s good for his daughter!” Jude replies. “And a good daughter would obey her father and do what’s best for her kingdom!”

“It’s not what’s best for the kingdom! It’s what’s best for you!” Lucy retorts. “The royal families you wish to make alliances with only care about their own wealth! They don’t care about the citizens of their own kingdoms much less ours! I could never marry someone like that!” Lucy shouts. 

“What the hell are you all doing in my forest!” A voice shouts from somewhere in the trees. 

Gasps of fear erupted amongst the soldiers while Jude’s face pales. Virgo cracks a small smile and a look of relief washes over Lucy’s features as the figure of a man drops down from the trees. 

This was no ordinary man though. Even though he wore the typical noble attire for a human man, he also had large maroon dragon wings sprouting from his back, and two matching horns pointing up from the spiky pink hair on his head. He even had matching maroon scales on the sides of his face and trailing down his neck. Most people were terrified when they looked into his bright reptilian green eyes. But Lucy felt something very different. She felt warmth, and love. 

“Natsu...” she sighs in joy and relief.

“Lucy.” Natsu replies with the same warmth in his voice.

The warmth in his voice makes warmth flood through her chest. No matter what world they were in, Natsu would always be her knight in shining armor. 

He holds out his arms for her and she moves to go to him but her father grabs her arm and yanks her back.

“Hey! Let me go!” Lucy protests and tries to yank her arm back but her father only pulls harder “Ouch!” She yelps.

Upon seeing his damsel in distress Natsu’s  soft demeanor immediately changes into something more reminiscent of the beast he resembles. 

“Get off of her!” Natsu roars.

He charges forward at an inhuman speed, right past the guards and yanks Jude’s hand off of Lucy’s arm, not caring to be gentle with him at all, causing him some pain as he takes Lucy into his arms and hugs her.

“Are you alright?” Natsu asks her softly. “Did he hurt your arm?” 

“Just a bit when he grabbed it. But I’ll be alright now that you’re here.” Lucy replies and rests her head under his chin, taking comfort in the warmth his body provided. 

Natsu holds her in his arms and gives her a light squeeze as he rests his cheek on top of her head. 

“You’re safe with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.” Natsu swears and presses a light kiss to her forehead.

“And yet you dare hurt me, her father?” Jude asks Natsu angrily, making him frown. “The King that your father is loyal to!”

“The Dragon King Igneel doesn’t swear loyalty to humans. He’s only loyal to his friends, and mine. And you’re no friend of his.” Natsu growls back. 

“But I made a deal with him! I let the dragons live in this forest in peace without any humans trespassing on your land and give you the noble title of Count to represent the dragons in our kingdom and in return the dragons protect us from invaders. We have an agreement, your father is loyal to me, and therefore as his son you should show me some respect!” Jude declares.

Natsu can’t help but smirk and laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” Jude asks. 

“You clearly misunderstood the purpose of the deal.” Natsu says. “The only reason my father protects your kingdom instead of burning it to the ground is because your daughter lives in it.”

Lucy smiles as Natsu gently nuzzles his face against her head before continuing.

“I’m half-dragon half-human. Igneel fell in love with a human woman and through some source of magic they found he was able to have a child with her but she died giving birth to me. So I stayed with my father’s people, the dragons. They were the only ones that accepted me. The humans all thought of me as a monster and when I was a kid they would chase me away when I would go into their towns looking for desserts and other treats I could smell from the outskirts of town. And because of the death of my mother my father is very protective of me so he’d burn down any village that treated me poorly. Then one day we came to Fiore and it was the same story as the other kingdoms. I got chased out of the markets and somehow wound up in the palace gardens to hide. Then that’s when I met Lucy. The first human I’d ever met who wasn’t afraid of me. And to this day, the only human who’s treated me with kindness. That’s why Igneel agreed to protect Fiore. Because it’s where my new best friend Lucy lived.”

“So the only reason Fiore isn’t ashes right now is because King Igneel wanted you to be able to have play dates with my daughter?” Jude asks.

“Yep.” Natsu replies. “If we burned the place down then my Princess would cry. And I can’t have that.” Natsu says.

“Your princess?” Jude asks. “You think she belongs to you?”

“She doesn’t belong to anybody she’s a person not an object!” Natsu retorts. 

“That’s where you’re wrong! I’m her father so she belongs to me!” Jude replies. 

“Not anymore!” Lucy shouts back, finding her courage now that she was with Natsu. “Count Natsu Dragneel and I are in love and he won’t let you take me away from him to marry me off to someone else!” 

“He was going to do what?!” Natsu exclaims and growls at Jude.

“He was going to sell me off like a brood mare to some horrible prince so I came here to run away with you so we can be together!” Lucy explains.

“I’ll never let my daughter marry a monster!” Jude yells. 

“Natsu’s not a monster! But you are!” Lucy retorts. 

Jude smirks and nods his head. 

Then a loud smacking noise comes from behind them and Lucy and Natsu turn around to see that one of the guards slapped Virgo in the face. 

“Virgo! No!” Lucy exclaims and turns back to her father. “Why would you hurt her?”

“Because I can’t hurt you at the moment. So your dear little treasonous maid will bear the punishment for your disobedience instead.” Jude explains. 

“You’re disgusting!” Lucy replies reflexively but then regrets it when Virgo gets hit again. 

Natsu frowns as he notices Lucy starting to cry so he turns to the soldiers with a frown.

“Virgo duck!” Natsu shouts before breathing fire at the soldiers. 

They scream as the flames hit them and Virgo gets free of them. Lucy runs over to hug her. 

“Virgo I’m so sorry!” Lucy apologizes. 

“It’s alright princess! It wasn’t your fault!”Virgo says. 

Natsu smiles as Lucy embraces her friend. Happy that she wasn’t crying anymore. Then he grimaces as he feels a shooting pain in his side. 

He turns and sees Jude holding the sword that just stabbed him. 

Virgo gasps when she opens her eyes and sees what happens. Then Lucy turns and her heart shatters. 

“Natsu! No!” She wails. 

“Don’t worry Lucy I’m fine.” Natsu says and grabs the sword in his hand and pulls it out of the wound with no pain whatsoever. 

The look on Jude’s face was priceless. 

“I’m half-dragon. You should’ve aimed for my head if you wanted me dead you moron.” Natsu says. 

Lucy giggles at the fact that Natsu called her father a moron.

Jude brings the sword up to swing at his head and Natsu just plucks it from his hands and throws it away, hitting some poor soldier in the helmet and knocking them out. 

Virgo and Lucy get grabbed by soldiers again so Natsu breathes fire to get them free. But while he’s doing that a few more soldiers stab him in his back and stomach. 

“Shit will you guys just quit that it feels weird!” Natsu exclaims and fired up his fist to take them down and that’s when one soldier gets a lucky stab in Natsu’s chest too. 

“Princess you and Natsu need to get out of here!” Virgo urges. “He’s strong but he’s also outnumbered!” 

“I know but what about you?” Lucy asks. “My father will kill you for helping me, I can’t just leave you here!” 

“Don’t worry! I’ll be fine.” Virgo says as she picks up a sword and grins.

Lucy smiles, feeling reassured that Virgo would be able to handle herself and she runs over to Natsu. 

“Natsu!” Lucy says as she runs towards him and he takes her into his arms. “Let’s get out of here!” 

“I was thinking the same thing.” Natsu says. 

And the next thing Lucy knows she’s being lifted into the air with Natsu. 

————————

As they fly over the trees, away from the willow tree and deeper into dragon territory Natsu notices that Lucy is surprisingly unafraid.

 “I thought you were scared of heights?” Natsu asks. 

“I can’t see how high up I am if I’m only looking at you.” Lucy replies.

Natsu can’t help but kiss her. 

————————

When they finally land at the Dragon King’s den, Igneel is there to greet them. 

“Greetings great dragon.” Lucy says and curtseys for him. 

“Lucy! How lovely it is to see you again!” Igneel greets. “I had a hunch that you were the reason Natsu was out today but I had no idea he would be bringing you to our den.”

“Natsu why have you brought her he-Natsu?” Igneel asks. 

Lucy turns around and gasps. She hadn’t noticed before because it was dark but now that they were under the light of the moon…there were red stains on his clothing and he looked paler than usual. 

“Natsu your wounds! I thought you said they weren’t serious?” Lucy exclaims as she runs over to him to inspect his injuries closer.

“I lied so you wouldn’t worry over me until we were safe. If I had said something sooner then you would have panicked and it would’ve slowed us down and then we would’ve never gotten out of there.” Natsu admits and Lucy cups his cheek and Natsu leans into her touch. 

“Who did this to my son?” Igneel growls. 

“My father and his goons.” Lucy answers with gritted teeth, her rising anger matching that of the great fire dragon behind her. 

“And why would they dare do such a horrific thing to betray me?” Igneel demands. 

“Because I was protecting Lucy.” Natsu says hoarsely and groans as Lucy sets him down into a more comfortable position on the ground. “King Jude was being cruel to her, he was going to try to take her away from me and give her away to someone else so he could expand his fortune. So Lucy fled here to find me so we could be together, but the King and his soldiers caught up to us and we had to fight our way out.” 

Igneel watches with concern as Lucy tears off strips of her dress fabric to soak up the blood on Natsu’s wounds. But there were multiple wounds, and she only had two hands. 

“Then they will pay for this!” Igneel declares. “I’ll burn them all!” 

“No! Please spare Fiore!” Lucy urges. “The citizens have done nothing wrong. Please don’t let them suffer just because of their King’s wrongdoings!” Lucy begs. 

“I understand.” Igneel says. “And I agree with you. I apologize for being quick to jump to violence but after losing Natsu’s mother, all I’ve ever wanted is for my son to be safe. And when you have powers like mine that allow you to burn away anything that troubles you well, it’s easy for that to become the default response. But after Natsu met you I realized that there are other humans like his mother that don’t see dragons as monsters that need to be slain.” 

“I’ve never seen your son as a monster. I met him after my mother died from illness and he brought such joy into my life by being my friend. And now he’s grown into the man I love. When I’m with him, I know I’m home. Anywhere else is hollow. And so with your permission I’d like to take his hand, wreck my father’s plans, and make Natsu my man.” Lucy says and smiles at him and Natsu smiles back. 

A look of pure joy spread over the dragon’s features and he looks at the lovers before him. 

“Oh Lucy I know how much my son cares for you. He’s already told me of his intentions to make you his mate so yes of course I approve!” Igneel says. “But first we should really treat Natsu’s wounds.” 

Lucy gasps. She was so caught up in the euphoria of being able to marry the man of her dreams that she completely forgot he was bleeding internally. 

“Oh my goodness! I completely forgot! Natsu I’m so sorry you must be in so much pain right now!” Lucy rambles and Natsu can’t help but smile at how cute she looks when she was worried over him. 

“It’s not that bad actually. I’ve had worse.” Natsu says with a shrug. 

“In this tower over here is where Natsu lives.” Igneel says and gestures his head towards an old stone tower on the edge of the clearing. “You’ll find some medicine in there that the dragon Grandeeney made to heal any wounds that a dragon or half-dragon might sustain.”

“Thank you. I’ll take care of him right away.” Lucy says and puts his arm around her shoulder and leads him inside. 

————————— 

As Lucy and Natsu sat on his bed together, Lucy takes note of how amazing this healing dragon’s powers must be. This medicine was a miracle. His wounds had stopped bleeding the instant she put the bandage with the magic salve over them. 

But other thoughts were crossing her mind. As she dresses his wounds in the dark room lit only by candle light, Lucy can’t help but feel a bit aroused. He was shirtless and her hands were all over his muscular torso, and she couldn’t help but take note of the strength those muscles conveyed. She wonders if he feels anything either. 

The silence starts to feel deafening so Lucy decided to ask a question that’s been on her mind for awhile.

“Natsu, now that we’re betrothed I think I should ask you, how do dragons get married?” Lucy asks. 

“They don’t.” Natsu says simply. 

“Oh...” Lucy asks unsure of how to respond. “But I thought you told me once that dragons mate for life.” 

“They do. Just not in the way humans do. Dragons don’t really have an official ceremony or anything like humans do.” Natsu explains. “When two of them decide they want to become a couple they just…mate.” 

“I see.” Lucy says as she dresses the gash on his left pectoral. 

The tension that was already starting to build between them had now fully crept it’s way into Lucy’s mind as Natsu mentioned mating. She had been thinking about doing this with Natsu for a long time. She does want to marry him after all, so she already found him attractive. But now, she had run away from her home, and the rules that came with it. She and Natsu had already promised themselves to each other with words, why not follow through with actions as well? 

“Well, weddings take a long time to plan.” Lucy begins to explain as she gently lets her fingers trail down his torso after setting the dressing. “And even if we were to have a wedding, it would probably be just your father’s clan anyway, since my father would sooner plot your murder than hand me over to you as a bride. He may even be plotting something to steal me away from you sooner rather than later. So instead of waiting for a wedding…” Lucy says, moving her gaze up to look into his eyes. “I think that we should just get married now. The dragon way.”

Natsu takes in a deep breath when he realizes what she’s asking. What she’s offering him. And Lucy could tell by the tent forming in his pants and his breaths becoming heavier that his primal instincts were starting to awaken. But Natsu kept himself in check. Sure he’s had these thoughts about Lucy before but only when he was alone, leaving him to deal with those urges on his own. But now she was right here and moving closer to him, with dilated pupils and his brain was screaming at him to just tear off her dress and claim her now. But he holds back. Because this wasn’t just some fantasy, this was real. This was Lucy, the love of his life and before he accepts her offer he has to be sure it’s what she wants. 

“Lucy are you sure that’s what you want?” He asks.

“Yes I’m sure.” Lucy says “We are in dragon’s land after all. And I’ll be living with your father and his clan. So I want to do things their way.” 

Natsu’s arousal builds even more as she takes his hand and places it at the top of the corset that was keeping her ample chest confined while her other hand slowly trails down his abdomen. 

“I love you Natsu. And I want you to claim me, if you want me too.” Lucy says. 

Natsu searches her face for any sign of unease or reluctance, but he only finds the same emotions he was feeling for her. Lust and love. And as she places her hand over the bulge in his pants, all doubt leaves his mind and he lets his primal urges take over as he cups her cheek to speak to her.

“Lucy my love you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Of course I want to claim you as my mate.” Natsu declares before tugging at the bow on her corset.

Lucy gasps as she feels the garment loosen before Natsu seals his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss as she unbuckles his belt and they proceed to undress each other, and make love not long after.

——————————

That morning when Lucy woke up she was still naked in bed. She follows the sunlight streaming in from the balcony, and sees her clothes scattered on the floor. 

Lucy felt goosebumps form on her skin as she remembered the warmth of Natsu’s touch from the night before. His hands hands were strong and felt rough against her soft skin, just like the parts of his body that had scales, and the contrast felt divine. He caressed every part of her body with his hands, and then re-traced his path with his mouth which had only aroused her more and encouraged her to explore his body as well, wanting to know him as intimately as he knew her as they consummated their love and became one. 

Her father couldn’t marry her off to anyone now. Natsu had claimed her for himself last night, and she loved every minute of it. She was his, and he was hers. Mates. And Count and Countess to the human kingdom, and prince and princess among the dragons. 

And right now her Prince was standing on the balcony, still naked as well. They were deep in the woods after all, it’s not like any passers by would see them. But then he turns around when he hears her stirring in bed. 

“Good morning my princess.” Natsu says and smiles. 

“Good morning my prince.” Lucy says and smiles warmly back at him. 

He comes over to her and leans down to place a gentle kiss to her lips. 

“Did you sleep well?” Natsu asks. 

“Yeah. I slept great.” Lucy says. “The bed was so warm with you in it.” 

“Well duh, fire dragon.” Natsu reminds her and Lucy giggles and kisses him again. 

Then Natsu’s expression turns serious. 

“Before you woke up, my father talked with me. He still wants revenge for what your father attempted to do to me, and what he attempted to do to you too.” Natsu says. 

“Oh…” Lucy says. 

She looks down at the blanket in-between them as she tries to think. On one hand she certainly agreed that something needed to be done about her father. But on the other hand, he was her father. 

“What does he want to do?” Lucy asks. 

“He wants to remove your dad from power.” Natsu starts. “And let you take his place.” 

Lucy perks up and looks at Natsu who was smiling with pride. 

“So I’d be Queen of Fiore?” Lucy asks. 

“Yep. And we don’t have to kill your dad. We can just lock him up in the dungeon or something.” Natsu explains. 

“Then you’d be my King?” Lucy asks. 

“King Consort, since you’re the one with the power but yeah.” Natsu says with a shrug. 

“That sounds great.” Lucy says. “Except…You and your father like to travel sometimes, go to other lands to train together…If I’m Queen then I won’t be able to come with you.” 

Lucy looks away sadly but then Natsu cups her chin in his fingers and tilts her head towards him. 

“You’ll never be alone again.” Natsu says and gently cups her cheek. “You’re the love of my life, and I promise we’ll always be together Lucy.” 

He leans forward and kisses her.

Lucy closes her eyes and melts into the kiss. 

——————————

When her eyes flutter open she sees Natsu’s face and smiles warmly. 

“Oh Natsu…” she sighs dreamily. 

Natsu frowns at her. 

“Uh, Luce you’re looking at me funny. Are you okay?” He asks her with a frown. 

“Hmm…” Lucy hums in confusion. “Of course I am! I’m with you my…” She explains until she notices his horns are missing, and that there are no scales on his body either. 

She reaches forward and feels the blankets and realizes she’s no longer naked in the expensive large bed she was in before, but wearing her pajamas while in a bed at the infirmary in Magnolia! 

“My…what?” Natsu asks, wanting her to finish her sentence. 

“My…idiot!” Lucy shouts and kicks him in the stomach with her foot. 

“Ouch!” Natsu yelps and doubles over in pain. 

“Yep! She’s fine!” Happy says cheerfully from the other side of Lucy’s bed. “You really had us going there for a second Lucy, I was worried that that bump on your head might have made you go crazy!” 

Lucy reaches up and feels that there are bandages wrapped around her forehead. And she winces slightly in pain as she touches the injured spot and remembers reality. She must have hit her head pretty hard in order to have envisioned Natsu as some sort of romantic Prince. 

“Honestly, I’m not too sure I’m entirely sane.” Lucy says. 

“That would explain why you kicked me.” Natsu grumbles. 

“Want me to do it again?” Lucy growls and Natsu yelps in fear. 

“Nope! I learned my lesson, please don’t hurt me again!” Natsu pleads. 

“Maybe I should still go get Porlyusica?” Happy suggests. “I mean, she’s mad at you now, but when she woke up she was looking at you like she was in love.” Happy teases. 

Lucy frowns at Happy but at the same time can’t help but blush as she remembers how she felt about the Natsu she met in her dream. I mean there were obviously some differences between the two of them. But now that she thought about it...there were a lot of similarities too. The Natsu from her dream may have been more obviously romantic but most of what he was saying to her and the way he was looking at her...the real Natsu did all of that too. And she loved him for it. 

And then it hit her...did she love Natsu?

“I’m sorry Lucy.” Natsu says softly and looks into his lap. “I said I’d protect you and you got hurt.”

“Well, you said you wouldn’t let the birds hurt me. And I got hit by a willow branch. So you didn’t break your promise. You’ve never broken any promise to me.” Lucy assures him.

Ever since they met in Hargeon, he had been the major catalyst for the events in her life. Both good and bad. And this job was no different.

Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind. 

“I know but still, you got hurt because I was so busy keeping those birds away from you that I didn’t notice that damn branch.” Natsu pouts. 

“It’s not your fault. I should have been watching where I was going.” Lucy says.

“If I was with you you wouldn’t have had to worry about that. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I know that ever since Tartaros you get upset when I do that.” Natsu says and Lucy’s heart skips a beat.

So he really did notice how his year long absence had affected her...Who would have known? Certainly not Lucy. He really paid attention to her feelings like that? 

“And I don’t like it when you’re sad. It makes me feel weird, like I want to fix it and make you happy again as soon as I can. It’s easy when I can just punch whatever’s bothering you until it goes away. But it’s different when I’m the one that hurt you. It makes me feel worse because I never want to be the cause of your pain. I want to be the one that takes it away, or even better prevents you from getting hurt in the first place. All I want is to keep you safe and make you happy. But I failed...” 

The more that you say, the less I know. 

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Only the lovers in the books she reads say things like this. Maybe he wasn’t as dense as she thought? Did he know what love was? Did he love her?

“Instead of fighting for you I should have just been with you. I made a mistake and you got hurt. But I won’t make it again. I’ll be more mindful of you the next time we’re on a job.” Natsu says. “I swear I‘ll protect you next time.” 

“Natsu...we’ve been doing jobs together for years. Nothing ever goes the way it’s supposed to.” Lucy says and holds out her hand for Natsu. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Wherever you stray, I follow.

Natsu smiles and it warms Lucy’s heart as he takes her hand. 

“Promise that tomorrow you’ll wreck my plans again by taking me on some wild adventure?” Lucy asks.

“You bet!” Natsu says and flashes her his signature goofy grin.

That’s my man.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

heiress - 6

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: i am really excited writing this lately and it’s totally not me avoiding to actually write any uni work. 

previous chapter

    - I think you need to make a choice, dear. - she cocked her head to the side, her own expression muffling the sound of Wanda’s voice cutting through the woods. 

She took a step backwards, unsure. She didn’t remember the time she was allowed such a choice. Her father had forced her into HYDRA’s hands before she could even speak, Bucky had forced her out of the Red Room and Hayward had forced her into SWORD. Looking back, she couldn’t find a single instance where she had been allowed her own agency. She was always dormant, carefully nodding, afraid HYDRA would come and take her back. She had been thrown into a cell during the Civil War’s events by her own agency and kept locked during the Thanos’ situation. The only time she had willingly stepped back was out of fear in Washington. Seeing her father handle the man she loved as if she were a mindless robot had thrown her into the same pit of fear she had always been kept into. It still haunted her to this day, she could still hear the television’s reporter voice as she explained what had happened. Once again, she was taking a step back. - Oh for heaven’s sake.

Agatha rose her hand  in the hand, twirling it as the darkness became sickening light and the woods turned into walls of places of sad occasions whose name and place she preferred not to remember. The ambience was sickly in dark and light green tinges with rusty bars. She did not want to remember it but she did and turning around she was face to face with one of the only happiest memories she had which overtime had became bittersweet. The music was low and muffled, coming from down the hall  were the staff was holding a meeting but it was well heard enough in the soldier’s cell, they could dance. And they did. She could see him and her past self in front off her, her head leaning on top the leather of his bodice, slightly tilted up so she could look him in the eyes, his flesh hand wrapped around hers as they moved side to side. She watched that scene with a sad look, feeling a lump in her throat become bigger and bigger.

   - Ain’t that sweet? - Agatha stood behind her. - So tell me exactly what’s taking you so long to take my help? Isn’t that what you want?

   - Yes. - she mumbled, almost hypnotised by the scene. - But it’s gone, it’s the past.

   - But that’s the thing, my little traumatised girl, it doesn’t need to be. Not for people like you, like us. 

   - No. Past is past and I can’t return to it ... - she moved away from that scene, turning to look at Agatha. - No matter how sad it makes me. 

   - No, dear, that’s not how it works for you.  - she twirled her hand again and the darkness returned but it wasn’t how it was in the woods. No, this was a large dark room barely light as if a flickering spotlight hovered them. She took steps forward, trying to read her situation only to find a pile of lifeless bodies of everyone she had ever known. She took a step back, hand covering her own muffled cry as everyone she had ever knew laid lifelessly around her. - You see, you’re not an element manipulator, that is a gross understatement of what you do and you should have the people who told you that burned at the stake. No, you have the particular talent of controlling matter ... creation magic. Not just in your own particular universe like Wanda but in every universe. It’s permanent, everything you do, doesn’t need a little dome protecting it. It’s powerful magic however when unbalanced, untrained, uncontrolled it becomes destruction magic which is why my dear you can make things disappear. You just make them cease to exist. 

   - The guards ...

   - Ceased to exist. - she interrupted her. - Of course you can bring it back like you did back at the Red Room but it takes time and control. You, of all people, have no control over it and whatever control you have breaks loose whenever Barnes just strolls around. It’s not very feminist of you. 

   - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice got louder.

   - This ... - Agatha pointed out every dead body surrounding her. -  Is what happens with uncontrolled creation magic. Wanda can’t help you, she’s chaos magic, your foil. I can, I can help you. I can take this burden away from you. Something you didn’t even want in the first place.

   - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice mixed with the sounds of her own thoughts until it broke through Agatha’s illusion. She looked at her feet, no longer surrounded by the corpses of those she loved yet Agatha was still standing in front of her, a sly smile on her face as if she knew her future. 

   - That’s what the future holds for you if you don’t learn to control it. You’re destruction so far, pure, unaltered, cruel destruction. Fitting considering your choice of lover.

   - WANDA! - Y/N replied back turning on Agatha as if she had been woken up from a bad dream. Agatha mumbled to herself before disappearing into the darkness of the night as Y/N searched for the Scarlet Witch. It didn’t take long for her to find her, noticing the look of pure worry in her eyes just like the time when her children were in danger. - Wanda, I ...

   - WHAT THE FUCK, Y/N? Don’t you do this to me EVER AGAIN. - she dropped her hands, eyes returning to her regular hue. - If you weren’t my age, I would have grounded you. 

   - I’m younger than you Wanda. - she sighed, small smile on her face. - I just thought I saw ... something.

   - What something? - they walked together through the hex. Watching the dome like safe haven they had created, Y/N didn’t find it in herself to tell her. Maybe Hayward was right, maybe the daughter of a villain only had promises of becoming a villain herself. Yet again, she had seen it. She had seen what being around them could lead to and that image was tattooed on her brain no matter how much she tried to throw it to Agatha trying to manipulate her. - Y/N? 

   - I thought I saw Agatha. - she said, stepping just a behind the border of the hex. 

   - Did you see her? Did she spoke to you?

   - No. - she said, almost robotically like as the Scarlet Witch allowed the hex to open for them to enter. Instead of finding Bucky on the swings, Vision was sat there, awaiting both of them to arrive. 

Before any of them could speak, Y/N took to leaving the couple, walking straight towards the door of her own bedroom and locking it on her way in. She  leaned against her door, letting herself slide until she hit the ground, hands cupping her head as she told herself not to cry. There was no use in crying about it, the only use was to make a decision; however, she would be damned if she allowed anyone to have agency over her again. No, she wasn’t her father’s daughter, she wasn’t HYDRA’s failed experiment, Hayward’s project or the Winter Soldier’s lover. No, she wasn’t just one. She was a tweaked amalgamation of everything people had told her she was and now that identity was shrouded in fear. Fear of what she was capable of, of what she had made to me. Somehow, things felt simpler before she had any answers. 

  - Y/N? 

  - Gosh. - she put her hand over her chest as Vision passed through her wall as if it weren’t concrete. - The door is closed, Vision. It is not an invitation to pass through my wall. 

  - I am terribly sorry about that but Wanda is worried. - he sat next to her. - And since you are the godmother of my children, I do consider you part of my family.

   - Are you here to give me a philosophy lesson, Vision?

   - It is not my place to tell you what to do. You’ve done well enough for yourself over the years. 

   - Your intelligence is much more mathematical than mine.  I actually have a question for you.

   - Please do not ask me again what is the meaning of life. - Y/N laughed at his worried voice, shaking her head no.

   - Do you believe creation and destruction can live together? Balanced?

   - Well, I don’t think one can live without each other. Humans are born and then they die, creation and destruction. Nature is filled with it, it’s almost based on it. I mean, isn’t love creation and destruction? Heartbreak and emotion.

   - Destruction is overwhelming. -  she leaned her head against  the door, looking up at the ceiling. - It’s merely a downfall. 

    - Maybe you should chose a different philosophy question.

    - I don’t think I can. - she mumbled to herself before turning her face to the synthezoid. -  You should probably return to Wanda. She hates sleeping alone. 

He gave her a sympathetic look only to leave her standing in the middle of her room surrounded by her own insecurities which always clawed at her during the evenings. Raising her hand and seeing the familiar white glow everything felt much more scary to her. She had been better off thinking she could control the elements rather than matter itself. Yet part of her scoffed at HYDRA for not being able to figure it out soon enough. Still, it was not natural, not for her. She was a hand to hand combat trained fighter, barely using that which lied straight at her surface. Agatha was right, she couldn’t control it. She knew she couldn’t and whatever power she had around it was fickle. Too fickle. 

It was best to forget and move ahead. Have a cup of tea, it will make you feel better, Monica would tell her whenever someone particularly got on her nerves while at SWORD and right now it sounded like the best idea. However, opening her tea box, there was nothing but dust. She sighed, removing her boots and grabbing her nightgown before unlocking the door and walking towards the kitchen. Finding the kitchen, she also found the same person who seemed to hover over her thoughts, putting the kettle on top the hob.

   - It’s an electrical kettle. - she said, sly smirk as she turned on the hob before Bucky could destroy Wanda’s precious kettle. - It doesn’t go on the hob.

    - Oh ... - he felt stupid not knowing that yet he felt even more speechless in front of her as she put the kettle on the base and turned it on. - Less fire prone?

    - Oh no, Billy has set it almost on fire several times. - silence installed between the two as they tried to find something to say which sounded organic and not just forced.

    - Night cravings? 

    - I guess you could call it that. You?

    - Can’t sleep. 

    - Sam annoying you? We could always put you two on different rooms. 

    - Just nightmares, really. - he stood by her side, watching the water boil on the glass kettle. - Did I use to have them ... back then?

    - It depended. - she sighed. - Most of the times, yes. I’ve been having them too lately so I have resorted to not sleeping. 

   - That’s not very functional, is it doll?

   - I wouldn’t really use functional as a way to describe myself. - she looked at him, mostly wanting to lighten the mood yet it only seemed to harden his expression. - No one in my direct family is very functional either. 

    - You are not your father. You know that, right? - his hand lingered over her wrist as her torso moved to stand in front against his. His hand found her, fingers intertwining as if it was second nature to him. - I figured you would’ve found that out over all this time.

    - Do you think I could become like him? - she looked at her own feet. - Evil is not born, evil is made. Do you think I could become like him ... a villain?

    - No. - he shook his head as if her words were mere ramblings of a crazy person. - I’d bet my own life on it. 

    - There’s a way ... there’s someone who keeps offering me the opportunity to be normal. Not have whatever it is I have, just ordinary civilian life in a regular town surrounded by regular people. 

   - Y/N, the last thing you will ever be is ordinary. Nothing about you or me for that matter is ordinary. You can’t pursue an ordinary life ... you can pursue something that makes you happy. 

   - What if what makes me happy is being ordinary?

   - I spent most the last year wanting to ordinary, Y/N. I was not happy, I was just going through the motions and now ... well I found peace in the unpredictable, no matter how much I cannot control it.

    - Are you happy now? - she looked into his eyes, an honest and truly scary question. One that she could barely answer if it were her. 

     - You always made me happy. - her hands left the marbled kitchen stone so she could wrap her arms around him, head leaned against the soft fabric of his jumper. He sighed, kissing the top of her head, as his hand caressed her back, the other one keeping her flushed to him. Y/N slowly raised her head to look at him, watching his eyes reflect the moon light like they always did. Some things  never change. Bucky hand climbed from her back to cup her face, allowing her skin to sink into his roughed hand which probably had more cuts than it should. She looked at him like no one else did and she had seen it all. Heck, she’d seen things Bucky wished she would’ve never seen but she still looked at him like any other woman looked at their cared ones. 

    - It hurts every single day. - she mumbled, almost ashamed to admit to the man who had been through the most that it was starting to become hard to get up every time she fell down. - Everyone says they can help me but I feel like I’m being constantly knocked down and I’m just so tired. I’m so tired of always getting up, it hurts so much and for once I just want to lay down. 

    - It’s okay. - his finger caressed her cheek, metal arm still rubbing up and down her back. Bucky never liked to touch his face with his metal hand, he refused. - You don’t have to get up every single time and if you can’t there’s so many people here who’d give you a helping hand. You’re not alone, Y/N.

    - Yes, I am. - she bite the inside of her lip. - I’ve seen it and it’s only a matter of time before I hurt everyone. 

    - You’re not gonna hurt anyone, Y/N. 

    - It’s not my choice. - she took a step forward away from him. - It was decided for me.

    - Whatever you do ... - Bucky scratched his neck, trying to compose himself, his own words running through his mind as he wondered if he had done something wrong. - I’ll stand by your side. 

    - I ... I should probably get going. 

    - Me too, Sam might woke up and think I tried to escape ... again.

    - See you tomorrow, Bucky. - she spoke as he took initiative to leave first, wondering if he had done something to make her upset, said something wrong. 

Y/N waited for him to be far off before she took further and further into the building. It was always dark there and not a lot of people were allowed in that particular area of their own base. Wanda herself had stuffed some particular nasty things in that area as well as some of SHIELDs and SWORDs experimentation notes. Only some people could get in and she was one of those people. Despite this she twirled her hand, opening the door without using a card. The darkness only seemed to intensify, as she got closer and closer to it, the room only barely light by the almost scary aura. The room where Wanda Maximoff had stored the Darkhold.

taglist: @lookiamtrying @austynparksandpizza​

[celestialtitania]

Une Rose Pour Toi (Part 2)

Written for Day 13: Flowershop of Marichat May. Can also read on AO3.

@marichatmay

Marinette was taken aback when she heard a furious pounding on her roof. Exchanging glances with Tikki, Marinette slowly climbed her bed with her math textbook in hand. She pushed the balcony hatch open ready to smack the book in the intruder's face when she came face to face with Chat Noir.

"Chat? What are you doing here?" She blinked at him owlishly as she lowered her arm. He'd leaped back in surprise but moved closer to her again.

"Marinette! I need your help!"

"M-my help?" For a moment, she was utterly lost. Then her face drained. "Is there a supervillain on the loose?" Then she paused, suddenly suspicious. "Why are you coming to me for help instead of Ladybug?"

Her heart was hammering in her chest. If he'd figured out her secret identity somehow...Marinette didn't know what she would do. She couldn't lose Tikki!

"N-no, there's no supervillain!" Chat clarified, waving his hands to dispel her worries. Marinette sagged with relief, her anxious thoughts dissipating.

She frowned at him instead. "Then, why do you need my help?"

"For our garden!" He spoke so matter-of-factly, Marinette had to take a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

"The rose garden? In the park?" He elaborated when Marinette still seemed a little confused. As understanding dawned on her, Chat looked a little offended. "Does our garden mean so little to you that you could barely remember it?"

"No, of course not. I just hadn't realized you'd want to share it with me," Marinette confessed.

"We planted the roses together, that makes it ours," Chat told her firmly. "And it needs help!" He looked terribly upset. Marinette automatically shifted gears into her planning mode, nodding at Chat to tell her what exactly was the problem.

"The roses are dying!" He wailed. "The leaves are turning yellow and the few roses that do grow; wilt and die way too quickly!"

Marinette's brows furrowed. "They get enough water?" She checked.

Chat Noir nodded earnestly as she hummed to herself. "The roses were planted in a good section of the park, so there's plenty of sunlight. What fertilizer do you use?"

Chat simply blinked at her. "Fertilizer?" He echoed.

"Don't tell me you don't use fertilizer!" Marinette said aghast.

"I didn't know I was supposed to!" He panicked. "Can we fix this?" Chat's big eyes looked into her and she noticed his bottom lip quivering. The garden was for his late mother, of course, he would be protective of it.

She sighed. "Of course, we can. Meet me at the entrance of the bakery."

"At the entrance? Why?" Chat sounded puzzled.

"I have to get a few things and let my parents know I'm heading out. I'll be right there!" Marinette promised, scrambling to grab her purse and gardening booklet. "Let's go, Tikki!" Her kwami zoomed into her purse.

"It's really nice of you to help Chat Noir like this," Tikki observed.

Marinette gave her a soft smile. "He's willing to share something so important to him with me, Tikki. How could I not?"

She rushed downstairs, waving at her parents as she headed out the door. Once outside, Marinette glanced around looking for where Chat Noir had gone off to.

"There you are," he dropped down from the roof, causing Marinette to let out a startled shriek. "Sorry!" He apologized, throwing his hands up. "I didn't mean to scare you."

As Marinette took in deep breaths to calm her pounding heart, she also took in his contrite expression. With a sigh, she let it go. "Give me your baton," she ordered.

He looked curious but obeyed instantly. Squinting at his baton, Marinette opened the GPS function and inputted an address. "We need to go here," she handed the baton back to Chat.

Taking his baton back, Chat took a moment to study the map before scooping Marinette up. She squawked in surprise, her arms naturally looping around his neck and she tightened her legs around his waist, to keep herself from falling. "We'll be taking the express pathway," he had the audacity to wink at her when she tilted her head back to glare at him.

Before Marinette could protest, he was vaulting away. Within moments, they were standing in front of Marinette's favourite flower shop.

"So, what are we doing here?" Chat asked as he set Marinette back on the ground.

"Maybe a bit of warning next time?" She frowned at him.

He nodded. "I pawmise," he said with one hand raised while the other was on his heart.

She narrowed her eyes at him but forced herself to move on. "We're here so we can buy some fertilizer and mulch to make sure the roses grow strong and healthy."

"Mulch?" Chat tilted his head at her.

"I'll explain everything," Marinette sighed. "Let's go." She led the way into the shop while giving him sidelong looks. "I thought you would have researched before starting the garden."

"I did!" Chat agreed while tapping on his baton to let out some of his anxious energy. "I just wasn't very successful." Marinette fondly rolled her eyes at him before grabbing his hand and walking up to the store counter.

"Hi! How may I help you today?" The saleswoman perked up when she saw them. Seeing Chat Noir had her appearing quite excited but she remained professional while speaking to them.

"We're looking for fertilizer and mulch for rose bushes." She turned back to Chat Noir. "Did you say some flowers had appeared?"

He nodded, looking a little distracted at all the flowers around them. "We'll also need several stakes then."

The saleswoman nodded. "Your rose bushes will thank you. It's nice to see young people taking an interest in gardening," she remarked. "Alright, so inorganic mulch," she scanned the shelves underneath the counter.

"Is it a large garden?"

"No! It's the small one in the park, I don't know if you've seen it," Marinette began to clarify but the saleswoman's eyes lit up.

"Oh! I heard about that! I love knowing the rumors were true," she exclaimed. "Okay, so that's what, five bushes?" She pulled out a large bag of inorganic mulch. "That should be plenty, but feel free to come back if you need more."

"A high nitrogen fertilizer would be best," the saleswoman explained, bringing out yet another bag. "Say, do you kids already have the rose feed?"

Chat stared blankly at her but Marinette gasped. "Oh! No, we don't. I forgot all about the feed."

"No worries, I'm just glad you're aware that they're different things. I get a lot of customers thinking they only need one or the other. I would recommend alfalfa. One cup now, one cup after pruning, and one cup after the spring flush. Think you can remember all that?"

Marinette nodded before Chat could even react. "I'll help with everything," she promised him, making him smile at her in relief.

"Last bud not least: the stakes," the saleswoman began as she took them to another part of the store.

"You're a punner?" Chat asked in delight.

"You stand around flowers all day and not want to make a pun or two," she dared him. "I take it you approve of my punning?" Chat grinned at her in response and nodded; he appreciated anyone who could make a good pun and this woman was taking the time to help him out with something that was important to him.

Marinette resolved to make a few more puns as Ladybug if that was all it took to make her Kitty happy.

"If you have five bushes, then four stakes should be plenty. Do either of you have any experience with stakes?"

Marinette volunteered, so the saleswoman handed them to her. As they paid for their purchases, the saleswoman smiled at them. "Thanks, kids, you guys really made my daisy."

"Thanks a bunch for helping us out," Chat threw back as they picked up the heavy bags and headed out the door.

Chat vaulted away with the bags before Marinette could even suggest walking. She sighed, resigning herself to waiting for him to appear again.

"He's just trying to be helpful," Tikki put in before Marinette could complain too much.

"I know, Tikki. It would just be nice if he'd at least talk with me first instead of making decisions all by himself."

She patted her purse to let Tikki know to hide again as she saw Chat coming closer. He landed and held out his hand to her. "Well, Princess? You ready?"

"Only so we can help the roses faster," she told him, looping her arms around his neck as he held on to her waist. Then they were soaring over the rooftops, wind blowing Marinette's hair backwards until she was set firmly on the ground again, next to the little rose garden.

They took a moment to take their supplies out of the bag and get set up.

"Feed, fertilizer, and then mulch," Marinette told him. "You can start by giving them a very small amount of feed and I'll do the staking."

Chat nodded solemnly, carefully measuring out a cup of alfalfa feed while Marinette expertly put in the stakes and tied the stalks of the bushes to them. She was careful to not get pricked by the thorns and soon enough all of the roses had adequate support.

"It's looking great," Chat gushed.

"Not done yet," Marinette reminded him, handing him the fertilizer. "Pour some fertilizer on and I'll add the mulch."

It was long and tiring work, but both enjoyed themselves. It was easier to garden when a friend was keeping you company. Once they were done with the fun part, they had to clean up as well. They gathered their supplies putting it all back in the large paper bag they had been given with their purchases.

Chat stored the remaining stuff next to a large rock. "I'll take it back home with me," he explained. "But it's easier to store it here for now." Marinette nodded in full agreement.

Finally finished, they collapsed next to each other onto the grass, using each other as support for their aching backs.

"That was exhausting," Chat panted.

"More than fighting supervillains?" Marinette joked, but she was tired too. Gardening in the sun took a lot out of you.

"How about we get cleaned up and go get some ice cream to cool down?" Chat suggested. "We can walk this time," he offered.

Marinette laughed. Chat being considerate now erased all of her previous complaints. It was nice to know that he paid attention to her as well.

"With Andre right over there? Yeah, a little walk works," impulsively, Marinette grabbed Chat's hand.

He glanced down before his eyes flitted up to meet hers. Whatever he saw, caused a smile to break out on his face, and then he was tugging her along towards Andre's cart. All Marinette could do was smile back while her heart pounded just a little bit faster than usual.

[dwellordream]

“Texts about petty treason clearly depict where and how women murder their husbands, but they have more trouble explaining why women do so. Just as the murderous wife challenged the conceptions of women's legal and moral stature on which marriage and social order depended, she also posed a problem for the many writers-hacks, ministers, legal personnel (judges, justices of the peace, clerks, and theorists), chroniclers, playwrights, and balladeers-who rushed to tell and sell her story. These authors attempt to tell a story in which a wife becomes the protagonist without conferring too much authority, prestige, or sympathy on a criminal, married woman. 

For only through transgression could such women, usually wives of yeomen, shopkeepers, tradesmen, and small landowners, demand attention outside of the household and neighborhood; only thus could they become the topic of debate in legal treatises and on streetcomers, the focus of attention in courtrooms and on scaffolds; only through transgression could they command a place at the center of a popular narrative as the protagonist of the story. If killing her husband made it possible for a wife to be at the center of a story, it remained a difficult story to tell. Certainly pamphlets describe who did what to whom with ease. Yet the texts that struggle to tell the story of a wife's transgression attempt to redress it through a didacticism that restricts the narration of her motives and desires. 

Once the writers begin to explore motives, they lose control of the moral of the story, for the more the reader engages with the wife the less simple the lesson becomes. To imagine, let alone sympathize or identify with, the frustrations of a wife is to question the legal and moral assumption that in the household there is only one citizen, one legal agent, one property owner, one decision maker: the husband. Some sixteenth- and seventeenth-century texts employ an explanation for the behavior of murderous wives that we often see in today's news and in popular culture; they represent the murderer as a battered wife who resorts to violence in despair and self-defense. Contrary to reductive analyses of the early modern family and the position of women in it, these period texts suggest a popular perception that husbands sometimes beat their wives to an extent that exceeded lawful correction and prudence and that beatings put wives in "a fit humour for the devill to worke on." 

Alice Clarke, for instance, is described as having visible bruises at the time that she is apprehended and examined for killing her husband. Even Henry Goodcole, the minister who counsels her and writes the gruesomely titled The Adultresses Funerall Day (1635) about her case, sees a connection between those bruises and her actions. The beatings described in such texts include not only drunken and impulsive assaults "with the next cudgell that came accidentally unto his hand" but also sadistic, eroticized rituals, such as "tying her to his bed-post to strip her and whippe her, etc." Although pamphlets exploit the titillation of such stories, despite the coy propriety of that "etc.," they also suggest that husbands could be uncontrolled, savage, and "unnatural," and that wives, especially those isolated from friends and neighbors by shame, distance, and religious or ethnic difference, might have felt that violence was their only recourse. 

Under common law, husbands had a legal right to beat their wives; however, the limits on this right were debated in conduct literature and explored in ecclesiastical courts when members of the community feared that excessive beatings threatened the wife's life and the peace of the neighborhood. The law did not spell out the limits on discipline except to assume that husbands did not have the right to kill their wives. As Martin Ingram explains, "Domestic relations were thus on the borders of public and private morality in this period-matters to be influenced by exhortation but not ordinarily by the exercise of formal discipline." To say that domestic relations remained outside "formal" discipline is not to say that they were unobserved or unregulated; neighbors and the local community exerted informal control over marriage and domesticity in many ways, including confrontation, shaming rituals, and bringing the offending couple before the justice of the peace for "unquietness." 

A husband's authority over his wife remained legally and morally ambiguous, even if the community's scrutiny constrained him. Since a husband's treatment of his wife remained largely beyond legal regulation, conduct literature appealed to the husband's judgment, urging him to regulate himself. In one of the many discussions of wifebeating in conduct literature, William Gouge suggests that beating one's wife undermines household governance because it opens up a space between the husband and wife, revealing that they are not one flesh, not one legal agent, but two: "Now a wife having no ground to be perswaded that her husband hath authority to beat her, what hope is there that she will patiently beare it, and be bettered by it? Or rather is it not likely that she will if she can, rise against him, over-master him (as many do) and never doe any duty aright?"

The husband's violence threatens to incite a contest for mastery; once the context of violence enables the wife to enter the fray as a combatant, the outcome is uncertain. One account of a wife's reaction to a marital rape, which we might not expect to find recognized as an offense in this period, clearly shows how a wife's subjectivity is constructed as violent, as a choice of her own life over her husband's life. In her examination recorded in A Hellish Murder (I688), Mary Aubrey (or Hobry), a French midwife, describes a history of dissension with her husband because she would not cooperate with him "in Villanies contrary to Nature." 

On the night of the murder, after beating her savagely, "he attempted the Forcing of this Examinate to the most Unnatural of Villanies, and acted such a Violence upon her Body in despite of all the Opposition that she could make, as forc'd from her a great deal of Blood, this Examinate crying out to her Landlady, who was (as she believes) out of distance of hearing her.” When she insists that she cried out, Aubrey employs the strategy of the rape victim, who had to demonstrate that she had made a "hue and cry" and thus had not consented. In presenting Aubrey's compelling testimony about this assault, A Hellish Murder not only suggests limits on a husband's rights to and power over his wife's body but also constructs a subjectivity for Mary Aubrey out of her despair, her sense of grievance, and her determination to escape. 

Aubrey finally demands of her husband, "Am I to lead this Life for ever?" only to receive more threats in response. In asking that question, Mary Aubrey is portrayed as raising a voice and imagining herself as having a life separate from and in conflict with her husband's. By depicting her reaction to abuse and her contemplation of retaliatory violence, this text constitutes Aubrey as a self-conscious, speaking subject. Later, beside her sleeping husband, she thinks "with her self," "What will become of me? What am I to do! Here am I Threatned to be Murder'd, and I have no way in the World to Deliver my self, but by Beginning with him." Aubrey's subjectivity is seen not only as the midwife's deliverance of herself but as a birth that depends on a death. 

"Immediately upon these thoughts," she stoutly undertakes the murder of her husband, strangling and dismembering him, and lugging parts of his body around in her petticoat to dispose of them. Popular accounts of petty treason usually shy away from such risky representation of a wife's conscious articulation of rights that are allied to violence by their very conception. The resulting attempts both to account for the complexities of domestic friction and to achieve some sympathy for the abused wife, while keeping authority vested in the husband, however tyrannous, can verge on the absurd. 

Goodcole describes one "young and tender" wife, who, repenting after administering poison to her "old, peevish," and abusive husband, fruitlessly pleads with him to take an antidote to preserve his life. "Nay thou Strumpet and murderesse," Goodcole reports him as saying, "I will receive no helpe at all but I am resolvd to dye and leave the world, be it for no other cause, but to have thee burnt at a stake for my death." * Although the wife is executed at Smithfield, Goodcole regards the husband, in his spiteful insistence on dying, as the agent. Sarah Elston, in her scaffold confession as recorded in A Warning for Bad Woo (1678), "protested again most seriously, that she never in her life had the least designe or thoughts of killing [her husband], onely it was an unfortunate Accident; and whether it came by a blow from her, or his violent running upon the point of the sizzars as she held them out to defend her self, she could not to this minute certainly tell."

These comic moments reveal how pamphleteers who wish to portray murderous wives as penitent and pitiful must awkwardly scramble to shield them from the imputation of intending to kill, just as they are presented as shielding themselves from blows. To characterize such women as assessing their hopeless situations and deciding to take violent action to escape them, that is, to present them as subjects, is also to remove them from sympathy and to open up disturbing implications about the marital relation of authority and submission. Writers in effect displace responsibility onto the husbands, positioning them as still in charge, even if drunken, violent, and absurdly self-destructive. In representations of domestic conflict in early modem popular culture-ballads, pamphlets, and plays, shaming rituals and jokes- the wife diminishes or usurps her husband's claims to authority as she asserts herself by committing adultery, beating or bossing her husband, or plotting to kill him.

For instance, Arden of Faversham (1592), a play about an actual case of petty treason, can be seen as an extended cuckold joke. Like such jokes, and like popular shaming rituals such as the charivari, the play holds the cuckolded husband responsible for his wife's adultery and insubordination. If the husband and wife become a joint subject at marriage, then, these popular representations seem to suggest, the wife's enlargement into volition, speech, and action necessarily implicates, diminishes, and even eliminates the husband. These popular representations push the logic of coverture to suggest an economy of marital subjectivity that leaves room for only one subject. They constitute the wife as a subject only to the extent that they qualify her husband's claims to subject status by silencing and immobilizing him and casting doubt on his authority and potency. 

The fact that popular accounts of such crimes acknowledge the role of abuse in inciting women to murder challenges assumptions we still have about women's rights within marriage and the monolithic power wives who defied the patriarchy during this period. It also complicates the notion of petty treason by introducing the possibility of tyrannous household government and by suggesting, albeit hesitantly, that there arc some justifications for rebellion. Certainly, contemporary debates about the limits on conscientious submission to civil and domestic authorities have a bearing on relations within the household and the understanding of petty treason. Writers of sermons and conduct books about marriage explicitly include the situation of the godly wife in their considerations of the limits on obedience to earthly authority; they advocate a demanding balance between submission and resistance, silence and good counsel.

In those cases of petty treason that resulted in convictions and made it into print, however, the circumstances in the household did not mitigate the wife's guilt. These women were executed as petty traitors despite their husbands' inadequacies as household governors. Although juries may actually have taken extenuating circumstances into consideration when they deliberated over cases of petty treason, these texts hold the husband responsible as well as depict the execution of the guilty wife; they recognize limits to a husband's power over his wife, yet present a wife's violent resistance as ultimately unjustifiable and destructive of the political order. Popular representations make these contradictions between husbandly authority and wifely submission visible, but they do not resolve them.”

- Frances E. Dolan, “Home-Rebels and House-Traitors: Petty Treason and the Murderous Wife.” in Dangerous Familiars: Representations of Domestic Crime in England, 1550 - 1700

[wylanvnneck]

This 2 part fic was written for the Secret Snusband Gift Giveaway hosted by @jurdannet​ and @jurdannetrevels​ for my lovely Knife Wife @lilacs-with-lavender​.

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Inspired by an episode of my favourite Cop TV show, ‘Castle’, in which a bet takes place with pretty high stakes, although the plotline has been tweaked to fit this fandom. My Knife Wife said she loved the Enemies to Lovers trope so that’s what I’ve (tried to) write here and I hope you enjoy the story of Homicide Detectives Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar and their mutual enmity.

Warnings: Not so graphic descriptions of murder and mention of drugs. (Really not sure what I need to tag, so please let me know if I’ve missed something.)

Posted as a Gift on AO3 | Part 1 | Masterlist

Part 2

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“Lil, It’s 7.15 and I still need to decide on a dress, help!”

The ever helpful Liliver is currently perched on her bed, legs crossed and unruffled in stark contrast to Jude’s frantic rummaging of her sparse closet. She comes across a sparkly orange sequin dress that she holds up for her friend’s inspection.

“Honey. You’d look like a broken disco ball.”

“The girl at Saks said sequins were in.”

“She lied.”

Ugh. Damn Greenbriar for his stupid bets and his stupid dinners and his stupid brain which occasionally stumbled upon solutions. Defeat was a bitter pill to swallow.

She’s contemplating over whether to excuse herself for the night by pretending to have an infectious disease which requires keeping all other humans at a distance of five feet, when the doorbell to her apartment rings.

“Lil, would you mind answering the door for me please?” she asks, conscious of the fact that she was dressed in only her underwear.

“Sure, but when I come back you’d better not be wearing that ghastly hot pink dress I saw in there,” her friend calls as she unravels herself from the cozy mattress and leaves the room.

Foiled again. Jude’s just about out of options and the only thing that she can fathom being worse than having to be Cardan’s fake girlfriend for a night, was having to do so while being completely underdressed and out of place in a roomful of his father’s closest business associates.

“There was a package delivered to your doorstep,” Lil says as she re-enters the room, carrying a white parcel in her hands.

“A package? But I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Open it, maybe there’s a note,” she hands it over. The detective inside of Jude is wary, but she’s too curious to not open it so she gently rips open the package’s wrapping to reveal a large square box tied with a silver ribbon and tag attached to it. ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ are the only words written on it. She knows immediately who it’s from and she feels an answering surge of anger along with an emotion that isn’t easy to decipher.

“I knew he was arrogant, but this-” She roughly unties the ribbon and tears open the lid  and inside is the softest folded up material that she’s ever seen. Gently, she takes it out and it unfolds, turning into a simple but gorgeous black cocktail dress with an A-line skirt and off the shoulder sleeves, the picture of elegance.

Lil’s silver eyes are wide when she lets out a low whistle, “Damn.”

Jude is speechless.

“Wow.” Cardan’s voice sounds slightly higher pitched than usual before he clears his throat, standing just outside Jude’s doorway. “You clean up nice, detective.”

With a little help from Lil, she had accessorised the dress with a silver choker necklace that had belonged to her mother and a small velvet clutch. Her hair was carefully put up with dozens of little bobby pins and she feels sexy and ready to conquer whatever the Greenbriar family had in store for her.

Cardan himself is dressed in a coal coloured suit, a silky scrap of fabric tucked into his jacket pocket, shiny enough to match his eyes. There’s the faintest shimmer of gold on his defined cheekbones and his curly locks are just untidy enough to look stylish and it’s unfair how handsome he is.

“So do you.”

He steps back and holds out his arm for her in the way that gentlemen did in those historical dramas that Lil was always forcing her to watch and it shouldn’t have made her blush as she clutches the soft fabric covering his arm, but it did. She blames it on the corridor’s harsh fluorescent lighting.

Together they glide to the elevator and wordlessy head to the garage where Cardan’s sleek grey Maserati stands out amidst the other rundown cars belonging to the other apartment tenants, her neighbours, yet another reminder of all the differences between the two of them.

“Your carriage awaits you, my lady,” he opens the door for her, something that most of her few disastrous dates had neglected to do in the past and she’s so used to thinking of him as an indecorous scoundrel that him being so courteous was almost unwelcome. She’s not used to spending time with him outside of work and she’s strangely out of her element.

Cardan goes round and gets in on the other side and Jude secures her seatbelt as he starts up the car and swivels his head around to watch the back of the car before reversing.

They’re cruising along in his car and the only noise is the smooth purr of the Maserati and it smells of the pine air freshener that he’s pinned up to the rearview mirror. She leans back in her smooth leather seat and watches as they pass by buildings and skyscrapers and shops, the city buzzing with nightlife.

“So, what exactly is it that I’ve gotten myself into?”

Cardan takes his eyes off of the road to shoot her a swift glance before focusing back ahead of him, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear stick. 

“Well, it’s a dinner party with some of my father’s closest friends, all of them snobs and all of them with their own agendas. I suppose I should also mention that this party is to celebrate the win of his company’s recent lawsuit.”

“Sounds like it’ll be wonderful.” Her words are dry with sarcasm. She has no desire to spend the night making polite conversation with aristocratic stiff necks who would look down upon her, but a bet was a bet and she had to admit that so far Cardan wasn’t making her regret her decision to agree to his challenge.

He surprises her by letting out a low and husky laugh, “You have no idea.”

There’s an awkward silence. 

“Thanks for the dress, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

For the short remainder of the ride the only sound that can be heard are the songs being played on the radio.

The party is in high swing by the time they get there, champagne glasses clink, waiters in their smart uniforms walk around carrying trays of hors d'œuvre  and the low rumble of conversation and piano music fills the air. The private outdoor venue is large and there are fairy lights strung on the bordering walls and tea candles on each table, creating an overwhelming effect.

There’s a slightly raised ramp at the other end of the entrance where a podium had been set up, complete with a banner displaying a fancy script that reads ‘Elfhame Enterprises’, which was the name of Cardan’s father, Eldred Greenbriar’s company.

Cardan has been holding her hand since he opened the car door once again for her and now, standing at the entrance of the party and waiting for his invitation to be accepted by the guard stationed at the gate, he squeezes her hand tightly in his and the act seems unconscious. There’s a tension clearly written on his face. 

For once she doesn’t need to raise her head to speak to him, thanks to her three inch heels and she leans over to discreetly whisper in his ear, “You ok?”

This time the gentle squeeze that he gives her is definitely on purpose.

 “I’m fine.” There’s the smallest of curves to his lips.

A diminutive lady with pale skin and Cardan’s sharp cheekbones and raven hair bustles up to them, a long stemmed wine glass filled to the brim held loosely in her hand. Jewels glistened on her long and low-cut gown, adding to the air of opulence that she exuded. 

“Cardan, you’ve finally arrived. Oh and you’ve brought someone with you!” 

“Hello, mother.” There’s a tightness in his smile. “Yes I did, allow me to introduce you to Jude Duarte.”

Stepping forward she firmly holds out her hand to Cardan’s mother and is graced with the barest of shakes in return, “You may call me Ma’am.” 

Ma’am? 

“Of course, thank you...Ma’am.”

Mrs. Greenbriar gives Jude a long and thorough onceover, dissecting her with cold eyes as if she were a mere insect and the feeling is extremely disconcerting. She looks to Cardan for support, but he looks just as out of depth offering her a look of sympathy with the features that so resembled his mother’s.

“So, Judie, what exactly is it that you do?”

She stands taller and staunchly replies, “I’m a Homicide Detective for the 12th precinct.”

“Ah. I see.” The words reverberate with barely hidden disappointment and distaste and just like that she no longer pays Jude any attention, turning to her son and reaching out to possessively clutch his arm and whisper something in his ear which makes him tighten his jaw further before bouncing off, wine spilling over from her glass.

“That was my mother.” Cardan says, unnecessarily.

“Right.” Jude couldn’t help what but wonder about what sort of a childhood he would have had to endure. Perhaps his mother hadn’t always been so disparaging. It seemed that there was a whole different side to Cardan’s life that she’d never known about.

“She's - hard to explain. I apologise for her behaviour though, she shouldn’t have treated you that way.” He’s sincere, but there’s also an underlying note of sadness. The type of sorrow that you would feel if you were let down yet again by someone that you always gave second chances to. Her heart gives a pang on his behalf. Before she can reassure him he continues, as if desperate to push the subject behind them. “Anyways, let me go get you a drink, what’ll you have?”

To the side of the grounds is a long table covered with a white cloth with various bottles of alcohol lined upon it, their colourful glasses glinting under the fairy lights. Behind the bar there’s a bartender in uniform, smoothly mixing drinks to order as rich elites look on.

“Um, maybe a Martini?” She names the first drink that comes to mind. 

“A Martini, huh? Dirty, perhaps?” His trademark flirty smirk makes a reappearance and Jude knows exactly how to handle it.

“Yup.” She pops the ‘p’ in what she hopes is a seductive manner. “Just the way I like it.”

His pupils seem to darken just the tiniest bit and his mouth makes a slight ‘O’ shape before he promptly turns on his heel in the direction of the bar muttering, “I’ll be right back.”

After a few moments of standing near the entrance, moving only to accept a smoked salmon canape from a passing waiter, Jude pulls out her phone from her purse to find multiple texts from Lil.

So? How’s it going?

If you need me to call and be your ‘family emergency’ so you can escape, I can totally do that, just say the word.

Jude

Jude

Judeee

You alive?

Biting back a grin she reassures her dramatic friend that she was definitely still alive. She’s just pressed send when she senses someone’s stare on her and something about it makes her skin crawl. She looks up and is met by the sight of a tall girl in a jade green V-cut and backless dress with vibrant blue hair. Nicasia.

“Why, Judie, fancy seeing you here!” Jude inwardly grimaces. Nicasia’s voice hadn’t gotten any less painful to hear since their last encounter. Standing in front of her now, she can’t help but think that she looked slightly ridiculous in all her fripperies, opaque pearls dangled from her ears and around her neck, gemstones glistening on her hair and cerulean eyeshadow that completely overshadowed the rest of her face. Strange to think that the last time they’d met, Jude had been plagued with envy, not even really knowing why.

She plasters a carefully manufactured, artificial smile on her face. “Nicky! What a delight to see you again!”

Nicasia’s face twists for a mere second before her cheerful and friendly facade is back in place. “Quite. Although, I can’t imagine how you’ve come to be here.” 

Her words are clearly a question, one that Jude answers beamingly, “Oh, I’m here with Cardan. As his date.”

She watches as the blue-haired girl’s eyebrows fly up her forehead, unable to contain her surprise. Jude knows a moment of smug victory and Cardan chooses this moment to walk up behind her carrying two cocktail glasses in his hands. He stops right next to her, handing her a glass with clear liquid and an orange twist inside it before slipping an arm around her waist, sending a zing up her spine. What the hell did he think he was doing? She briefly considers shaking him off, before realizing that he was holding her this way for Nicasia’s benefit. After all, she was his pretend girlfriend for the night.

“Nicasia! How lovely to bump into you!” His smile is just as fake as Jude’s had been and that fact shouldn’t give her a moment of satisfaction but it did.

“Why hello there Car! Yes your mother invited me, wasn’t that sweet of her? And I was just talking to Judie over here, it’s been lovely seeing her again.” She brings a hand up to her neck and starts twirling a pearl necklace. “I didn’t realise you two were an item?”

Cardan holds her even tighter against him. “Well, what can I say, she swept me off my feet.” 

He turns his face to her and gives her a subtle wink before molding his expression into an excruciatingly sappy look of affection, the kind that only existed in extremely cheesy early 2000s Disney movies. Suppressing a smile she returns the look to the best of her abilities.

“Aww, Honey Bunch, you are too adorable!” 

Go big or go home, right?

Cardan has difficulty not breaking into laughter but he manages to hide the hysteric sound that leaves his mouth as a deep cough and if this charade went on for much longer she didn’t think she could resist cracking up either.

“Only for you, Kitten.” That almost undoes her.

Nicasia makes a low sound of disgust at their little act and barely bothers to make up an excuse for herself before stalking off, her stilettos clicking against the paved pathway. 

“Oh thank God she’s gone, I was afraid that we’d be regaled with ‘Nicasia’s Trials During Sea Travels, A Saga; Part II.’” He’s referring to her last conversation with Nicasia when she had dropped by the precinct to drop something off for him and had ended up spending almost half an hour recounting her issues with sea-sickness. By the end of that half hour Jude had felt like clawing her eyeballs out.

She can’t help but laugh at both his comment and the recollection of their ridiculous masquerade and he rewards her with a look of astonishment, before a slow smile spreads over his face, eyes unbearably soft. “There’s that laugh.”

He’s referring to their conversation at Fair Folk Inks when he’d accused her of being uptight. The recollection should prompt Jude to make a snappy retort, but instead she simply swallows against the sudden lump growing in her throat and her heart is beating quick enough for her to hear. What on Earth was going on? This entire night had felt strangely like being stuck in limbo, her and Cardan shedding their competitive workplace relationship for one that was a lot more informal, a lot more together.

She takes a sip of the forgotten Martini in her hand, trying to push her errant thoughts away. Before she can think of a way to defuse the situation, the tinkling sound of metal being struck against a glass rings out through the night air.

Unnoticed by her, an elderly gentleman in a midnight blue suit that contrasted heavily with his bright blonde hair and owlish bronze eyes had stepped up to the podium. In his ring clad hands he held a wine glass and a fork, explaining the sound that she had heard earlier. Standing a little behind him but at his side is Mrs. Greenbriar, gripping a re-filled glass of wine. There also appears to be someone else standing next to her on the ramp, but the crowd around it is so thick that Jude can’t quite make him out.

“And there’s good ole’ Dad.” Her date for the night doesn’t sound at all enthusiastic about the appearance of his sire at the podium. “Looks like he’s about to grace us with an Eldred speech.”

And indeed, the old man waits until everyone is paying attention to him before he sets down the fork and raises his full glass in the air as he speaks. “Ladies and Gentlemen, as I’m sure you all know; since otherwise all you blighters wouldn’t be here,” there’s a slight smattering of obligatory laughter, “Elfhame Enterprises has recently undergone a lawsuit, which we came out of with a resounding victory against the Seelie Corporation, as everyone knew we would. Nevertheless, let us raise our glasses in celebration and as a toast to many more years of victories and resounding successes!”

United, his entire audience dutifully raises their glasses in a toast and downs the contents, Jude herself takes the smallest of sips from her Martini out of respect, although the alcohol tastes more bitter than before. She had never been a huge fan of these big businesses that bribed and blackmailed and pocketed money for themselves at the cost of so many others and she’d been a detective for long enough to cement that dislike. Then, she makes the startling discovery that Cardan himself had not raised his glass, nor taken a sip, instead, the hand that clutched his drink was doing so so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Before she has the time to question his surprising behaviour Eldred continues speaking. 

 “In regards to the many years to come for Elfhame Enterprises, well, as you all know I’m not as young as I once was, although I can definitely still party the way I used to,” more polite laughter,

“and it is very likely that I shall be retiring for good in a few years. Until that bittersweet moment arrives however, I am glad to announce that working right along beside me and learning the ropes will be my heir and the man to whom the running of my wonderful company will fall to...my beloved elder son, Dain Greenbriar!”

If a meteor had just flown across the sky and landed two feet away from her, Jude couldn’t have been more shocked than she was at that moment. Cardan had a brother.

She watches in slow motion as the previously hidden figure beside the now jubilant Mrs. Greenbriar steps forward to stand by his father. Unlike Cardan, Dain was the picture of his father, except 30 years younger. His blonde hair was light and shiny and his face was harsh and unforgiving, the angles seeming as sharp as a blade. His handsome but smug smile rubs Jude the wrong way, making her instantly dislike him. Next to her, Cardan wears a shield of uncaring resignation, but whilst she watches him watching his family, there’s an underlying sadness seeping from his countenance and she knows him well enough to detect it.

Jude had always taken Cardan at surface level, he was rich, came from a wealthy family with high connections and lots of influence and he was also a playboy. To her, that meant he had been given an easy life, one where he never had to work hard for anything and got a free pass into doing whatever he liked, so very different from the life that she had lived with her struggling single mother after her father had passed away during an accident at his forge. And now it looked like her disdain for his background had been unfounded. His mother seemed to only care about money and positions, his father was no better and from the self-satisfied grin on Dain’s face she could surmise that he was the golden child of the family, coveted by all and ‘overshadower’ of his younger brother.

The same younger brother whose existence his entire family and their friends seemed to have forgotten about. 

Enough was enough.

She deposits her Martini onto a passing tray and does the same with Cardan’s untouched one which she wrestles from his tight grip, before reaching out to take his hand in hers. He tilts his head and considers her for a moment before surrendering with a slight shrug, his usual debonair sucked out of him. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”  She drags him out through the entrance, not stopping to consider if any of the guests was watching them in the turmoil of congratulating Dain and his father.

The moment they’re out of the gates she stumbles into a nearby deserted alleyway, towing a bemused Cardan along with her. They come to a sudden stop right next to a streetlight, and unhesitatingly Jude plonks herself down onto the relatively clean looking sidewalk, with no regard for her new dress. 

“Sit.” She pats on an empty spot next to her.

Cardan raises an eyebrow at her, before giving in and seating himself in the place she’d indicated. Her heel clad legs stretch out next to his feet encased by fancy leather Oxford’s.

“Talk.” She silently encourages him with her eyes.

“I-” He starts, then stops. Struggling to meet her steady gaze he finally bows his head and forces himself to speak. “I suppose you could say that my family has never been the most loving,” understatement she thinks, “and ever since the day I was born I was nothing like my big brother, he talked; I watched, he walked; I crawled and it was always like that. He would excel at school, I used to run riot with my friends. I always knew that they loved him more.

“When it was time for me to find a job, I knew that I didn’t want anything to do with the corporate world, I’d seen what it did to my parents and my brother and I wanted nothing to do with it. So I decided I’d do the exact opposite. I’d try my hardest to fight for justice and go against everything that my family stood for, corruption, money and power. That’s why I became a cop, why I enrolled at the academy, why I used my father’s blood money to pay the fees, so I could give back to the community in even some small way. Needless to say, my parents weren’t very happy with that decision.”

His words hit Jude like a volley of arrows. She’d been so very, very wrong about the man sitting next to her. This man who fought so hard to escape his family’s legacy. Regret rushes through her and reaches out for his hand and squeezes it gently, the way he’d done to her earlier.

“Cardan, listen to me, what your family thinks about you doesn’t matter. I wish that you’d grown up with parents and a brother who loved and treasured you the way you deserved, but you know what? 

“I think you should be proud of who you are. Because everything that you’ve been through has made you who you are today; Cardan Greenbriar, a pretty smart cop - despite what I said earlier, it wasn’t true and I’m extremely sorry for it - and a partner who always keeps up with me and someone whom I wouldn’t hesitate to entrust my life to and the man who manages to charm everyone in the precinct with his magnetism.”

He’s squeezing her hand right back and his eyes are glistening suspiciously as they burn into hers. A shaky smile manifests at her last few words after which he looks down once again and mutters, “not everyone.”

“Huh?”

“Not everyone.” His voice is stronger now when he raises his head again, more combustible. “You said that I’ve charmed everyone at the precinct, but there’s one woman who appears to be immune, despite being the one woman that I’ve had feelings for for quite a while now…it’s you, Jude.”

She can hear the blood rushing in her ears as her heart thumps. He thought she was immune to him? So had she, she’d thought she hated him, but now she’s wondering if what she felt for him was so much more than hate. Yes, he had her hackles rising faster than anyone else did and his occasional arrogance was a never ending source of annoyance to her, but he was also the man who understood her when she was working overtime on a tough case, always bringing her coffee whenever she pulled an all-nighter, always making sure to inquire after her mother’s health, always making sure she had a safe way of getting home. So many times he’d helped her out in little little ways, disguising his kindness as him merely trying to get under her skin and now her oblivious self was finally starting to realize it.

He smells like pine and Cardan in the aftermath of his confession, and he’d called her Jude, not ‘Duarte’ and he had feelings for her and what she’s about to do next was something that she never dreamed that she would do before, and yet, it was somehow inevitable. She leans over and kisses him.  

His lips are so very soft, like a feather, and the moment they meet hers she bursts into flames. This kiss was unlike any that she had ever had before, It was a forge-fire hot conflagration and she didn’t care if it burned her. The flame that had always been there between them is stronger than ever and it felt as though all this time the ‘hate’ burning through them had been hiding a much more powerful passion beneath it.

He brings his hands up to her neck and gently tugs at the bobby pins holding up her hairdo. She barely notices as they skitter to the pavement, leaving her brown locks down for him to pull at. She does the same to him, carding her fingers through his thick curls, curls that felt as sleek as a puppy’s fur against her questing hands.

Panting, he pulls away first and she has to force herself not to follow his lips with hers. Slowly she opens her closed eyes and looks at him, so close now that she can see the slightest flecks of colour in his dark eyes as his breath stirs her loose hair. 

“Wow. That...wow,” he babbles, “I - we should date, that was, I mean-”

“Cardan?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He does exactly that and later, when he asks her out, she has no answer for him but ‘yes’.

The End.

-------------------------------------------------------

Liles, this fic was for you and I hope you enjoyed it. It’s been really fun getting to know more about you through our anon asks and answers and feel free to PM me anytime💕

Once again, I’m tagging: @cupcakesandkittens​ and @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

Please let me know (via ask or PM) if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my taglist!

[another-place-to-fall]

Defending the women of LOST/Sexism in LOST

People say they don’t like Kate Austen because she’s “annoying” “can’t choose between Jack and Sawyer” “always wants to join every single mission”. Kate has way bigger things to worry about than sorting out her romantic feelings. Yes, she is developing feelings for both Jack and Sawyer, but she doesn’t have time to figure them out while trying to survive on the island. And the fact that people don’t like her because of the whole “I’m coming with you” thing is a little ridiculous, because they’re hating Kate for wanting to protect her friends and do whatever she can to help. You know who else does that? Jack. But plenty of people love him for those very same reasons. Yeah, a lot of Kate’s character was centered around the love triangle, but that isn’t the character’s fault, it the writers’s.

Then there’s Claire Littleton. People always complain about her “my baby!” thing, but... she only actually says that a few times, AND, if your child was taken from you or you thought your child was going to be hurt, wouldn't you be worried out of your mind? Wouldn’t you want to do anything to help them? People also criticize Claire for her entire Season 6 arc. She was alone, on the island, thinking everyone had abandoned her, with only the MIB for company. She was also tortured by the temple Others, who she thought had taken her child. Claire was a single mother who just wanted to keep her son safe, give her a break. 

Sun-Hwa Kwon is a character who actually doesn’t receive that much hate, but there is still the fact that people don’t like her because she left Ji Yeon to go back to the island for Jin. Here’s the thing: Sun had no way of knowing what was would happen on the island. She had no way of knowing that Jin had time traveled to the past, and she had no way of knowing what would happen with the MIB/Locke. She thought that she would be able to go to the island, bring Jin and the others back, and the two of them would reunite with Ji Yeon. And then in the submarine incident, Sun didn't want Jin to stay. She wanted him to live and take care of Ji Yeon. It was Jin who made the decision to die with her, not Sun.

Shannon Rutherford is a very unlikable character. Even I don’t enjoy her character, or Boone, and that is a view shared by many other people in the fandom. Many people call her selfish, spoiled, and just plain rude. And she was all of those things, but that wasn’t her entire character. Remember, they had all just been through a plane crash, landed on an island with no chance of rescue. Also, friendly reminder that she was only 20 years old. She was scared, and her way of coping with that was to try to do something normal. Let’s not forget, in Pilot, Part 2, she volunteered to go on the mission to fix the transceiver. She was constantly feeling useless, and it didn’t help that other characters, especially Boone, were constantly putting her down and mocking her. When she started to see Walt, she genuinely made an attempt to help him, even though she wasn’t sure if he was even there. Her death was untimely, and I wished we had gotten to see her grow more as a person. Also, her death was used for shock value and to further Sayid’s character development.

And now, one of the most hated characters of LOST, Ana Lucia Cortez. Now, while the characters I mentioned above were shit on and criticized, Ana Lucia was absolutely hated by the fandom. People hated her attitude, her toughness, her dislike of most of the people around her, and the fact that she killed Shannon (who, by the way, was just as disliked by many Ana Lucia haters). You know who else has a similar attitude? Who has that same toughness and dislike of people? Who else killed someone? That would be Sawyer, a fan-favorite, white male character who is beloved by the fandom. Now, for the last point, what I am comparing here is Ana Lucia killing Shannon to Sawyer killing the man he thought was Frank Sawyer in Australia, right before flight 815. Ana Lucia killed Shannon because she was trying to protect the people she was leading (including Sawyer!) from who she thought was the Others, and killing Shannon was an accident. Sawyer killed the man completely on purpose and out of revenge. Oh, and it wasn’t even the right person. Yes, I am aware of the man Ana killed long before flight 815 out of revenge, but if we can take her very small amount of character development, in which she refused to kill Henry Gale, a known Other at that point. Whereas Sawyer was still willing to kill a bunch of people in Season 6, the end of his character arc. And yet, Sawyer is still in most people’s top five characters lists (just to be clear, I do not hate Sawyer at all, and this is not anti Sawyer but pro Ana Lucia). You may argue that people love Sawyer because of his character development, which I do agree with. However, Ana Lucia was never given the chance to have Sawyer-like character development because she was killed off in the same season that she was introduced in. She wasn’t even allowed to be in the church in the flash-sideways, and she didn’t get to “move on.” Ana Lucia deserved way better than the death for shock value that she got.

Next up on the list is Juliet Burke. She, like Sun, also isn’t the target of a lot of hate, but there are still things that need defending. The first thing is, of course, her sudden change of mind when it came to detonating the hydrogen bomb in Season 5. Yes, it was selfish of her to endanger everyone on the island just because of the way Sawyer looked at Kate. But if the plan did actually work, which she thought it would, that meant she would lose everything she had gained over the past few years, including Sawyer. Juliet is incredibly kind and feminine while also being badass at the same time, which is amazing because you don’t usually see those two traits coinciding (usually a badass character isn’t very feminine and a “traditionally feminine” character isn’t a good fighter). As for all of her motives in Season 3, Juliet was trapped on the island for three years. All she wanted to do was leave and go home to her sister. Yes, she manipulated Sun, but right after that, she made things right by helping Jack make a plan to stop the Others. Her death was heroic, and I’m glad she was finally able to be happy in the flash-sideways. (I am declining to mention her whole relationship with Goodwin and all the drama with Ben, although I might dive into that in another post). 

Now, the character Rose Nadler has almost nothing that needs to be defended. She is a constant wise voice of reason who isn’t concerned with the drama of the rest of the survivors. Her relationship with her husband Bernard is very sweet, but she doesn’t let that stop her from doing the smart thing (like stopping his SOS sign idea). Not only that, but Rose has one of the best (and most meta) lines on the show: “If you say live together, die alone to me, Jack, I’m going to punch you in the face.”

Another character who doesn't need much defending is Charlotte Lewis, but not for the same reason as Rose. Charlotte was done dirty by the writers. Of the science team, she is the least fleshed out and explored. She had a single flashback and a little bit of exposition information from Ben, but that’s pretty much it. Every significant thing she did was for the sake of other characters. She had a fake-out death so Ben would reveal that he had a spy on the boat. She was taken to the Barracks so that members of Jack’s group would have a reason to go there. Her going to the Barracks was also an excuse to get Miles and Kate there. And she only died/was dying for shock value, to up the stakes of the time flashes, to provide more questions to the characters and the audience, and to further Daniel’s character development. In the flash-sideways, all she did was go on a date with Sawyer and further his character development. She didn't get to go to the church and move on. Daniel and Miles, the other members of her team, on the other hands were given compelling backstories and centric episodes.

Penelope Widmore is similar to Charlotte in that there isn’t much to defend because she doesn’t do much that affects the plot. Nearly everything she does is about Desmond, and the writers barely even gave her a personality. I’m sure Penny was an actually interesting person, if they had bothered her to give her any storyline that didn't involve her love interest.

Danielle Rousseau is a character that kind of slides in and out of the story as needed. Now, Danielle isn’t the subject of a lot of criticism just because she isn’t very focused on, but from what I have seen, here’s what I have to say: Danielle was alone on the island for sixteen years. And for sixteen years, she had to live with the knowledge that she was forced to kill the man she loved and her team. Not to mention the fact that her daughter, Alex, was taken away from her when she was just a week old. Can you blame Danielle for being paranoid? Her death was not a fair end to the character, and it was only used to kill off Danielle quickly and provide shock value.

Her daughter, Alex Rousseau, is similar to Charlotte and Penny in that she doesn’t need to be defended because everything she does is to affect other characters. In this case, those characters are Ben and Danielle (especially Ben in the later seasons). Danielle’s entire character is centered around the fact that she lost Alex and has been searching for her, and Ben’s motivations after Season 4 are largely motivated by Alex’s death. She herself doesn’t have much of a character arc, and her death was only to provide shock value and further Ben’s character development.

Another character that falls into the category of not having much to defend because every action is for someone else is Libby Smith. Once the tailies and the main survivors joined together, she was almost immediately shoved in a relationship with Hurley. The only things we knew about her backstory were that her husband died, she was a clinical psychologist, she was in the same mental hospital as Hurley, and she gave Desmond a boat. That’s it. She didn’t have a centric episode, and she only appeared in other people’s flashbacks. Her death was only to provide shock value and further Hurley’s character development, as well to show that Michael betrayed the survivors. 

Notice how many of these women died for shock value and/or to further a man’s character development? Notice how many of these women are disliked for traits that other characters are loved for? Notice how many of them barely exist as their own character without a man? I love LOST, I really do, but their treatment of female characters needed a lot of improvement.

[johaerys-writes]

Where Blood Roses Bloom

Fandom: Castlevania Pairing: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades

Summary:

After Trevor gets grievously injured by a night creature, he and Sypha return to Dracula's castle to seek Alucard's help. The man they find there, however, is but a shadow of the friend they left behind.

Meanwhile, in far Styria, Hector does his best to survive in the vampires' court, a lamb amidst wolves. Little do the wolves know, the lamb has fangs of its own.

Chapter 2: Friends is up! Alucard POV, and a fair bit of introspection as he tries to come to terms with Sypha and Trevor returning after being gone for so long, and what that could mean for their (once) friendship.

Read here or on AO3! Read Chapter 1

Adrian’s footsteps ring hollowly along the empty corridor. He walks without thinking, with swift and purposeful strides that take him as far away from the room where Belmont is lying already half dead, and Sypha is wringing her hands in worry.

There is a stream of light pouring in from one of the windows along the dark hallway. Motes of dust bob and dance, shimmering iridescent in the early morning sun. Adrian walks towards it, presses his palm to the smooth, cold stone of the windowsill. His hand, he notices absently, is shaking.

What on earth just happened? What is he doing? What was he thinking, opening that damned door?

After that night —that dark mark in the series of dark marks that seem to be making up his life now— he swore he would not open that door for anyone ever again, unless it was to end them, swiftly and decisively. While sharpening the stakes that would hold Sumi and Taka’s lifeless bodies, he swore that those two would be the last to ever cross the threshold of this God-forsaken place alive. That he would remain in eternal solitude, feared and reviled, a prisoner in his own home, but at least he would be left in peace.

Barely two weeks later, and not only has he let Sypha and Belmont in, he practically carried them in himself.

Sypha’s frantic banging on the door caught him unawares. He never intended to open, not even when he realised it was them, but her desperate pleas called to him in a visceral, instinctual way. When he saw her red, tired eyes, her haggard appearance; when his eyes fell on Belmont —a miserable pile of blood-stained clothes and hair matted with feverish sweat, bleeding on his doorstep — his mind froze for a moment. There were no thoughts, not really, just shock, worry, and that deep, gut-twisting fear: please don't let him die, not him, not him, too.

And all this for Belmont. Trevor fucking Belmont, who can’t go two seconds without insulting and pushing and prodding him, even when he’s one foot in the grave already.

“Mad,” Adrian whispers under his breath. He had his doubts before, but now he is sure: he is utterly, undeniably mad. He has finally lost whatever is left of his mind.

He shakes his head as he pushes himself upright. For a moment, he wonders what in the seven Hells he’s supposed to do with them, with the mess that has been thrust in his hands. Belmont’s condition is worse than he thought. The wound is deep and ugly and festering, and unlike anything he’s seen before. It’s a miracle how the man is still on his feet; if he weren’t built like a tree Adrian is sure he would have been dead long before.

His feet take him straight to the upper floors, where he had been before Sypha and Belmont showed up. The large, dusty room with the tall floor-to-ceiling windows that his mother once used as her study is the only place he seems to be able to find any sort of peace these days. He has taken to sorting through her old medical journals; a long, painstaking process, but oddly comforting. There are still piles upon piles of leather bound books, notebooks and scrolls that she never took with her to that small cottage she had taken to living in and treating the peasants from the nearby villages during the last few years of her life. Adrian remembers thinking of taking them to her even then, mere months before she was taken, but he never did. Now he’s almost relieved, in a way, that he never did; at least he still has something of hers that the humans -those vultures- never managed to burn. As poor a consolation as that may be.

He walks to the tall cabinet made of elegantly carved dark wood that stands at the far end of the room. It is where his mother kept most of the ingredients for the medicine she used to make. It takes him a moment to find what he needs: dried wormwood and red dead nettle to alleviate pain and slow the course of infection, wild radish powder for the fever, a strange-looking mushroom that, when pounded into a paste, can stop the progression of even advanced gangrene, or so his mother told him once. Adrian takes them all to the work table that hasn’t been used in years, wipes the dust off the mortar and pestle and disinfects them with alcohol, and gets to work.

There is something soothing about mechanical tasks, about using his hands, he thinks, as he grinds the ingredients into a paste. He is so used to drifting aimlessly through the cold, dark corridors, to watching the days pass in a slow, never-ending stream, that moving with such purpose and urgency now is a welcome change, even if the cause for it is anything but.

He has something to do. The almost pleasant buzz of excitement in his stomach while he waits for the brew to boil over the old stove is a surprise.

~

“You’re back!” Sypha says, hardly a second before he has finished knocking on their door. The dark circles under her eyes still betray her weariness, but her smile is wide and relieved when she looks up at him. The fire that’s crackling in the hearth fills the room with pleasant warmth, and Sypha’s cheeks are flushed and rosy.

Adrian opens his mouth to respond, when a strained groan from the bed cuts him short. “Was about bloody time.”

Belmont is lying on his back, exactly where Adrian left him. He looks paler than death, his cheeks gaunt and sunken, the pillow and sheets drenched in his sweat already, yet he still manages a small, smug smile when he elicits an icy frown from him. “Thought you might have lost your way.”

“Fortunately, not all of us possess your embarrassing navigation skills, Belmont,” Adrian replies smoothly as he makes his way to the bed.

Belmont laughs hoarsely, “Excuse me? I have embarrassing navigation skills?”

“Yes. How would you call getting lost in an abandoned village of approximately ten houses, and ending up ankle deep in pig shit? That wasn’t too long ago now, was it?”

The other man groans and rolls his eyes. “Christ, it was one time. And I didn’t get lost, I was looking for booze.”

Adrian lifts a brow. “In a pig pen. Really. Even for you, that's a first.”

“What fault is it of mine that the storage room was right next to the pen? And part of the wall had collapsed, as you may remember, so I couldn’t get there any other way.” Belmont narrows his  blood-shot eyes. “I don’t remember you complaining any when you drank half the wine that night. After scoffing down most of that wheel of cheese I managed to bring back, of course.”

Leaning against the bedpost, Sypha lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Leave it to you two to start bickering about something that happened months ago, and everyone else has forgotten but you.” She shakes her head, but Adrian can see the small, fond smile that tugs at the corner of her lips. It startles him how much he has missed seeing it. The warmth that spreads through him at the sight startles him even more.

It feels odd to be around them. It is odd, certainly, how easy it is to slip back into that familiar rhythm, without even thinking about it. The paradox isn’t lost on him. There was a time, however brief, that he had thought of those people as friends. Or something very close to that, anyway.

What were they now? Could he afford to trust them, like he once had? Could he trust anyone?

He straightens, his amusement dying abruptly. They are both staring at him curiously, unnerved by his sudden silence. The grey light of morning that pours in through the windows highlights the sickly pallor of Belmont’s countenance, casts sharp shadows on the concerned frown that furrows Sypha’s brow.

Adrian hands Belmont the vial, then takes a step back. “Drink it now,” he says flatly, “while it’s warm. It won't be much use, after.” That should stop the man from talking for a while, he hopes. It does something strange to him, when Belmont talks. It makes him feel —almost— human.

Belmont takes the vial he is offered without a word. He tips it over his lips with trembling fingers, winces as he swallows. The medicine is quick to work. His features swiftly relax and he sinks back into the pillow.  

“Ah, that’s better,” he sighs. “Sweet, blessed oblivion.” He is fast asleep in seconds.

A tense, uncomfortable silence spreads between Sypha and Adrian after Belmont is asleep. He doesn’t really know what to say to her. He’s not sure whether he wants to say anything at all. Her bright blue eyes on him make him uneasy. They always have, a little. It is like they can see right through him.

“The wound should be cleaned and dressed again,” he says matter-of-factly. “As often as possible. The less chance of infection there is, the better. I’ll bring some fresh water and bandages, you get him out of the rest of his clothes. Can you do that?”

Sypha nods sharply, and pushes her sleeves back.

By the time Adrian returns, she has managed to remove most of Belmont’s travel stained clothes without disturbing his injury. They only exchange the briefest of words as Adrian cleans the wound and applies the antiseptic he brought, then they both dress him in clean clothes. The shirt is one of Adrian’s own, and it is a touch too snug around the shoulders and Belmont's thick arms, but anything other than what he was wearing is a significant improvement.

As he stands back to let Sypha do the rest of the work, he notices the certainty and familiarity with which she handles Belmont. It hasn’t been lost on Adrian that their relationship seems to have changed and grown since they both left the castle. When she pushes a stray lock of hair behind Belmont’s ear, and gently presses a cool, damp cloth on his fevered brow, it leaves Adrian with no doubt.

They are together.

The realisation shouldn’t have made his heart tighten like this. An ugly feeling, something akin to jealousy, something that is eerily close to despair, rises in his chest. Sypha and Belmont are together. He wonders how he didn’t notice straight away. Of course he knew upon first seeing them that, during the months they’ve been away, travelling together, their bond has grown stronger than it was before they left. It was only a natural consequence of their way of life. But this…

He stares without meaning to. He watches as Sypha tends to Belmont, as she wipes the grime and sweat away from his face with so much tenderness, and he knows that she not only cares for him: she loves him. The realisation drives those twisted feelings deeper in his heart, when he wants nothing to do with them. Before he knows it, he’s already trying to imagine what it must feel like, to have someone care about him, so much, so deeply. He imagines what it must feel like, to be with something like this, to sleep next to them every night. He pictures Belmont’s arms coming around her, pulling her against his broad chest; he pictures him smiling at her, kissing her full, rosy lips.

Adrian tries to imagine what it would be like, if it were him.

It is a quick thing, effortless. He can almost see her responding to his touch, leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He imagines her laughing at his jokes, gazing at him with love and adoration, like he’s something precious, something good, and his heart aches with a sort of longing he has long thought he is incapable of feeling.

He swallows thickly and drags his gaze away. What is it to him, if Sypha and Belmont are together? Nothing. Neither of them means anything to him. As she takes her time tending to him, he only wonders idly how she has managed to stay so close to the man, let alone sleep next to him. On the best of days, Belmont smells as if he’s been dipped in stale, sour beer— among other, fouler things that Adrian doesn’t want to think about.

Certainly, the man is quite handsome in a somewhat —or incredibly— rugged sort of way. Adrian can see the appeal, if dimly. That still doesn’t change the fact that Belmont is a boor and an insufferable lout and, frankly, more stupid than mud.

“There,” Sypha says quietly, laying Belmont’s head carefully back on the pillow, as if she were cradling an injured bird in her hands. “That should do it.” She wipes her palms on a clean cloth nearby and turns to him. There is something bright gleaming in her eyes. Hope. Adrian knows that look. “Did you find a cure?”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that.” He busies himself with cleaning his hands and pushing his shirtsleeves down so that he doesn’t have to see the hope wither on her face. “I have not seen a wound like this before. I need more time to figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“Oh.” He might not be looking at her, but he still hears the wind go out of her sails just a little. “Well. The medicine you gave him buys us time. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes, a little.”

“Good.” She nods and straightens, her jaw set in determination. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go.” Adrian blinks at her, and a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “Did you think I was going to leave you to look for the cure alone? I’m going to help you.”

“That… will not be necessary,” he says, a bit too quick. “I am perfectly capable of—”

“Nonsense.” She walks to the armchair by the window and picks up her cloak. It looks worn and the hems are mud-stained, but the way she throws it over her shoulders with so much grace and purpose makes her look fierce, almost… regal.

Her large, round eyes are on him now, and the intensity of her gaze leaves him breathless. She gestures towards the door.

“Shall we? We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

He finds himself complying readily, without wanting to, and it irks him.

~

They don’t speak much as they walk through the empty corridors. Sypha follows him quietly- her footfalls are light, probably soundless to anyone not possessing Adrian’s heightened senses. Only the whisper of the fabric of her robes around her ankles as she walks, and the sound of her breathing. It is smooth and calm, and only a little bit heavy. It is not difficult for Adrian to tell that she is keeping herself upright through sheer will and determination. It is admirable, really, and it makes him want to reach out to her, hold her hand perhaps, but he thinks better of it.

“There we are,” he says as the wide doors of his father’s library come into view. The hinges protest loudly when he pushes them open. Adrian hasn’t walked in that place in months— no, years. He has purposefully avoided it all the time he’s been there, yet he is left with little choice now. His father’s collection of books and magical scrolls is impressive; he always had a fascination with medicine. If there is information to be found on how to treat night creature wounds it has to be here, if it is not in the Belmont library. Adrian prepares himself mentally to visit both of the places he least enjoys visiting, if he has to.

He stands at the threshold for a breath, letting his gaze sweep over the expansive room. The neatly stacked shelves, the vials and the oddly shaped instruments his father used to collect are exactly as they used to be, not one of them out of place. There was once a time when Adrian would spend the majority of his spare time there, the countless books and scrolls his only company in that castle when he was growing up. It had been a comfort for him then, yet the sight of them now just makes him feel… hollow.

It was odd, how a man as transfixed with death and blood as his father went to so much trouble to keep the art of healing alive throughout the centuries. It seems like a farce now, a joke, a twisted image of reality that has no place in that world. Yet here it is before him, staring at him, laughing in his face. It is like looking at his reflection in a broken mirror.

Sypha’s shoulder brushes his own as she takes a step forward and into the room.

“This is amazing,” she says under her breath. She spins in a small circle, gazing around her in awe. “Look at all these things! There must be something here that we could use.” She walks swiftly to one of the low tables filled with the strange apparatuses his father liked to construct. She carefully pokes a brass, bell shaped instrument with the tip of her finger. “What is this?”

“A bloodletting cupping vessel, used by Ancient Roman healers. A long, long time ago.” Adrian drifts near her, coming to stand beside her. She straightens, and as she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, he catches a hint of peach blossoms, of jasmine. Her soap, he assumes. He takes a deep breath, trying to discern the scents. Jasmine and peach blossoms, a hint of fresh hay, and is that sweet, slightly musky smell hers?

Before he knows it, he’s taken a small, perceptible step closer to her. Yes. That scent is definitely her. Jasmine and peaches, and that faint musk that is her, sweet and sharp like fresh cream—

He stops himself abruptly, drawing back as if stung. What on earth is he doing? He clears his throat discreetly and walks away. “And this is the funnel that goes with it,” he says, feigning disinterest, nodding at another apparatus nearby. “It is to collect blood for tests.”

“Tests?” Her eyes widen and focus. It unnerves him when she does that. Whenever she looks at him like this, it makes him feel like he is the only person in the world just then. “They used to run tests, back then?”

“In a way. Some of their methods are used to this day. Well. By those that don’t believe that sprinkling goat’s blood can cure a wandering eye, or that burning dried nettles can scare away the spirits that cause gout.” He clasps his hands behind his back and looks around. “So. I believe that what we’re dealing with is a sort of hex. We would need to remove that first, before attempting to heal the wound. Any idea where we should start?”

Sypha’s enthusiasm dims only slightly. “I’m… not sure. I can use healing magic, but my inventory of spells is quite small. I could devise a new spell, I suppose… but I would need the right books for that. That could take time. Or—” she glances up at him hopefully, “—we could look for a scroll. It seems your father has quite the collection. There must be something here, some sort of spell that can remove the curse. That was what I was hoping for, in fact.”

Adrian nods, humming in thought. “A scroll would be just what we need. My command of healing magic is rudimentary at best. I doubt I could even use it, but you could certainly try.” He turns around and walks to the far end of the room, towards the bookcases that line the walls. That was where his father kept his scrolls— hundreds, perhaps thousands of them, arranged in neat stacks in alphabetical order. His father was always very particular about the correct way to store books and scrolls.

“This is as good a place as any to start,” he told her, gesturing at the shelf with the scrolls written in Adamic. If there are powerful curse lifting and healing spells to be found anywhere, that is the place.

Sypha blinks, her eyes wide and sparkling as she takes in the sheer amount of carefully rolled up papyruses. She picks one up and opens it, swiftly reading the letters on the page.

“Fascinating,” she whispers under her breath. “This is… this must be at least two centuries old. This form here,” she points at the cluster of elegant shapes written in squid’s ink, “I don’t think it’s been used since the eleventh century. At least.” She walks up to him to show him. That faint, underlying scent tickles his nostrils again; he takes a discreet step to the side.

“Yes,” Adrian says, nodding absently even as his stomach twists in knots. “It is one of the more recent ones in my father’s collection.”

“Recent?” That gaze is on him again: bright, intent, clear like a midsummer’s day sky. Her lips widen in an enthusiastic smile. “There must— oh, there must be centuries worth of wisdom hidden in those shelves! There are scrolls from the ends of the world here. I wonder how your father came by it all.”

“Sacked the towns and villages that kept them. Killed and staked those who’d written them.” He shrugs as he examines elaborate glass vials on a nearby shelf. “Or so the tales go.”

Sypha stares, then looks away."Oh. Yes, I... I suppose you're right."

A cold, awkward silence falls between them. With slow, careful movements, she places the scroll back where it belongs and drifts slowly towards the far end of the bookcase.

They don’t speak much after that.

~

The hours fly by swiftly, one bleeding into the next in that sunless room, as Adrian and Sypha search through the scrolls. Were it not for the large, mechanical clocks on the wall, Adrian would never know whether it was day or night outside. It was probably late evening when Sypha falls asleep, with her cheek pressed to the desk. He brings her a blanket, some tea and a piece of pie he made the previous day, and continues to work. She barely stirs. Her hears her when she wakes up a few hours later; feels her gaze on his back, but says nothing.

His eyes are dangerously close to falling shut on their own as he reads through a scroll with annoyingly small letters, when an enthusiastic cry from the far side or the room jolts him bolt upright.

“I found it!” Sypha says, walking briskly up to him. She is grinning, her cheeks flushed, “I think I’ve found it. This must be it!”

Adrian blinks the weariness away from his eyes, examining the contents of the scroll that Sypha is holding under his nose. The forms are familiar, an incantation that must be hundreds of years old. It was first written by one Yin Chunhua in a province in Northern China almost three hundred years before, and was translated in Adamic by an Arabian scholar at the end of the twelfth century. Adrian takes it from her hands carefully, brushing the tip of his finger over the dried ink.

“Are you sure?” he asks, glancing up at her. “You think this will work?”

“I think so, yes. We can try.” Her face is glowing with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling with determination. “If it doesn’t work, we try again. And again. And again. Until Trevor is healed. I know we can do it.”

Adrian holds her gaze for a long moment, a strange warmth creeping up inside him. ‘We’, she said. Them.

“Alright,” he nods. “Let’s do it. No reason to tarry.” He starts walking towards the door, when he is stopped short by Sypha’s hand on his elbow.

He turns around. Sypha’s touch is light, careful. She looks up at him, and, once again, it seems as if everything else has faded into the background, as if there's nothing else in the world but them, gazing at each other.

“Thank you, Alucard,” she says softly. Her blue eyes are earnest and crystal clear; it's like looking at the shimmering waters of a crystalline pool. “Your help means… everything. It really does."

Adrian’s breath grows shallow. The tenderness in her voice is unmistakable. It feels so strange, being directed at him. There is something stirring within him now, stronger the more he gazes at her; something that feels dangerously like hope. Could it be that she still considers him a friend? Could it be that the bond the three of them once had, however brief, is still there? Could it be that perhaps she could… love him?

The thought withers as soon as it blossoms. How foolish, how futile it all is. Sypha and Belmont left months ago to hunt monsters, they moved on with their lives, and he stayed behind, an empty shell of a man drifting endlessly through rooms and hallways that were emptier still, consumed by grief and loneliness. It was that same loneliness that Sumi and Taka had detected, and that they had pounced on, like hounds on blood. He let them. He paid for it, dearly, and so had they. And now, one kind word of thanks from the people that left him behind and he is ready to make the same mistakes all over again.

Adrian clenches his jaw as the familiar sting of shame and anger drives through him. They are not his friends anymore; he doubts they ever truly were. It was a matter of convenience from the start that they came together, and once his father was gone, so were they. What are friends, anyway?

What are friends? He’s never had any, and he never will.

Adrian takes a step back, slipping out of her gasp. His voice is flat and icy, his features schooled to an expressionless mask when he says, “This is wasting time. Let’s go.”

He turns towards the door, leaving her staring after him. The sooner Belmont’s injury is dealt with, the sooner they will both leave.

The sooner he will be on his own again, in peace.

~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, I’d love to hear thoughts! :)

[akatsukinojutsu]

𝐼 𝑅𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 - Pain (Yahiko)

That vibrant orange hair... that face. The last time you saw Yahiko, he died as he fell into Nagato and flat onto the ground as the rain cascaded down on his lifeless body. So, why was he here? Now? [originally posted on my ao3 and based off of my oc]

You cried in the rain as you felt your stomach growl with hunger. The Second Shinobi War left you an orphan.. just a child left to fend for yourself and no adult to care for you. You found yourself digging in dumpsters and stealing food from local restaurants. Your stomach rumbled loudly as you eyed a bowl of rice sitting on the bar of a struggling shop in the heart of Amegakure. You hid behind a bush in the pouring rain as you staked out the establishment, making sure that the owner wouldn't come around and catch you.

When you decided the time was right, you swallowed your fear and took off in a quiet, quick sprint. Quickly you performed a variety of hand signs, "Uma, Tora, U, Tatsu, Saru, Mi." Right eye changing from your typical [E/C] to a shade of deep magenta. Thankfully your seismic ninjutsu techniques aided in your tasks of thieving. You were able to perform jutsus that utilized the vibrations in the Earth and air, giving you the ability to perceive the environment far beyond basic sight. Using a variance of spatial perception, you scanned the area to further ensure no one was around. People appeared like echolocation, their beings displaying like sonar. Threats appeared as red and allies as blue, typically you found yourself sensing those with red, malicious echoes.

A country torn by war and people ravaged by a thirst for blood would do that... threatening even a child if it meant to be a source of release for the anguish. You fought against those who tried to harm you, killing your first human at a young age. Just a kid. You quickly and quietly made your way to the bowl of rice. When your fingers wrapped around the ceramic yet they met another pair. "What the-?!" you yelled out, your gaze meeting that of a set of brown eyes. "Hey, back off. I was here first." a boy with spikey orange hair growled, his eyes narrowed. "Yeah right," you snarled in return and yanked the bowl away, sucking in your lower lip with a gleam.

The orange hair boy leaped toward you but you jumped away and he fell down flat onto his face. You giggled as he pushed himself up and brushed off his knees. But the look in his eyes was the same that you had seen in your own. You could tell he was tired and hungry, just the same as you. However, he barked insults at you, waving his fist in the air wildly.

You sighed in defeat, 'I'm probably gonna regret this...' you thought to yourself. "Look, why don't we share it?" you held the bowl out and it sat in your open palms. His eyes widened as he stopped his yammering and you could sense his guard lowered, his lips turning from hard pressed to a small smile and then into a cheeky grin. His white teeth were the brightest thing in the gloomy atmosphere. Years passed. Jiraiya trained the four orphans that were your group from Amegakure -- Konan, Yahiko, Nagato, and yourself.

The four of your dreamed for a world of peace. Your feelings for Yahiko blossomed since the first troublesome meeting. The two of you shared tender moments, like your first kiss. However, Konan also admired the orange leader of the foursome -- this caused jealous feelings to arise in you.

This caused friction in your relationship with the blue haired kunoichi. She was tender and sweet, her appearance was like that of a doll. You loved her, she was your sister. But you couldn't help but feel envy. Nagato tried to intervene as he wished to keep the peace between the two of you. Konan was aware of the closeness between the orange haired orphan and yourself -- despite feeling envious herself, she wished only the best for her adopted siblings.

The tribulations the four of you endured would last the test of time...

But that kiss, that tender moment... it would outlast any pain.

Yahiko took you out on a scouting mission to get a detailed record of the surrounding landscape of Amegakure for the newly formed Akatsuki. Your orange haired companion practiced sparring with you. He managed to knock you several yards with his Wild Water Wave, coating you in mud and barbs. You yelled loudly in anger and annoyance, shaking your fist. "Yahiko, you asshole!!" you wiped thick mud away from your forehead.

The male ruptured in a fit of laughter, doubling over and holding his side. Your face grew red with embarrassment and you took off in a sprint away from him. His laughter halted immediately when he noticed you had taken off in a fit. You rushed to the bank of the large lake that surrounded the area and stripped yourself from your cloak.

Only dressed in your mesh bodysuit, you quickly dipped into the cool river and began washing yourself of the thick mud. Splashing the water into your face and plucking the burrs from your hair, frustration boiling over -- curse words flowing from your lips like a geyser. Sounds of footsteps caused you to cease your blabbering and turn around quickly.

"Ooooh, Yahiko, you pervert! Quit peeping on me and just leave me alone, damnit!" you shook a fist in the air wildly before dropping it when you noticed a flower being held up to you.

"No pervert, just admiring." he held the flower out further, "Here." You hesitated, your face growing warm with a blush.

You took the flower, it was Baby's Breath, your favorite. Despite the constant raining of Amegakure, the little white flowers grew well beside this specific bank. Yahiko rubbed the back of his head nervously, his face taking on an embarrassed look. "Sorry, [Y/N]." his eyes closed for an awkward grin but you took this opportunity to embrace him. You tightly wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your lower waist.

The two of you stood in the drizzling rain in silence, just embracing the moment for what it was. You pulled away and stared deeply into his brown eyes. He stared back, you pursed your lips and placed a small kiss on his lips. You could feel Yahiko shudder for a moment which caused you to pull away to try and take a step back, however, he reeled you back in. He cupped your face in his calloused fingers, his eyes examined your face as his irises darted around your features. He closed his eyes and pulled your face to his, then he kissed you deeply. It was a moment that lasted a lifetime. However, That dreaded day...dreaded night... it forever haunted your memories and soul.

The other Akatsuki members which included yourself but not Konan, Nagato, and Yahiko were all asleep after a relaxing afternoon of drinks and food. Kyusuke woke you with a yell, yammering loudly about where Yahiko and Nagato had gone off to. The entire group and yourself sprung into action to rush to their aid. However, two adversaries stood in your way and didn't allow any to pass. "[Y/N]! Go!" Kyusuke cried out as he was willing to sacrifice himself to allow you to aid your friends.

You hesitated but he insisted, you performed the hand signs for your environmental vibration melding. With an intense concentration of chakra in your core, you can meld into the vibrations that occurred in the air or water. Evaporating into nothingness and able to traverse the battlefield in invisibility. You were exhausted by the time you reached the trio, Konan was being held by Hanzo up on top of a cliff.

You took off in a sprint and nearly tripped over your feet on the slick ground in a desperate attempt to reach Nagato and Yahiko. But you were too late. You watched as if it happened in slow motion...Yahiko thrust himself into the kunai that Nagato had in his grasp. Your knees buckled and you fell in tandem with Yahiko's lifeless body, screaming out his name. You fled from the two remaining orphans and decided to travel the world; made the decision to run from the pain versus do something about it.

You wanted peace and for a world without war and pain but the pain you felt inside overpowered any pride. You found yourself lodging in Konohagakure for several months, to keep a low profile. Attention was the last thing you wanted. You had committed your fair share of crimes in each village, just to try and feel something again.

It seemed fruitless and it crossed your mind often how long you could continue on like this. Even after meeting a handsome Konoha Tokubetsu Jonin named Genma, it was hard to get close because you just feared the pain. The Jonin was willing to share the pain with you but you refused to allow him to dig deep enough to know the truth of Yahiko and the other two Ame kin. Just when you were ready to call it an end.. An unlikely visitor appeared at your lodge's window late one evening...

Tap, tap, tap... Tap, tap, tap...

A light tapping at your window drew your attention and you pushed yourself up from lying down, then slowly walked toward it, noticing a white paper origami dog. "Hmm.." there was only one thing you could think of when you opened the window to grab the object. "Impossible." you whispered, remembering your blue haired female compatriot. You held the origami dog in your palm, bringing it closer to your face as you studied and examined it; it looked like her work, her jutsu. A faint sound of hissing came from the paper and you realized what it really was. A paper bomb.

You cursed loudly as you attempted to throw it out of the open window and into the city below. But you were too late and flew backward from the force of the explosion. The windows exploded and glass flew like shrapnel into the room. You shielded your face with your right arm, shards of glass embedding their sharp edges into your skin. As you lowered your arm, you noticed two figures now standing in front of you but their identities were concealed by the white smoke. Once it cleared and you recognized the two, your heart skipped several beats. You could feel each thump in your head as the world around you grew still.

Blue haired female. Orange haired male. It couldn't be. No. Impossible!

Your eyes blinked several times quickly as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing. "Konan? Y-Yahiko?"

"Hello, [Y/N]. It has been a long time." Konan spoke, her voice sounded the same but more mature. You remained on the floor, motionless. It was as if you were seeing ghosts. To her right was a face that you could and would never forget but he was different. His face was littered with black piercings, studs and spikes. He too has matured but it was still the face of the one you admired. However, his eyes were no longer those of the warm brown but that of the Rinnegan. Nagato.. he had those eyes.. where was he?

Maybe he was dead and gifted Yahiko them as you've heard of the process before. You wished to see the red haired boy again but you needed to focus on the two that were here now. "[Y/N]." Yahiko's voice was deep and modulated, not the silvery voice of his younger days. "I-I watched you die," you sobbed as your eyes welled with tears but you hurriedly wiped them away to avoid your weakness being shown.

"There is much to discuss, we may assess it later." he lent out his right hand down to you. His fingernails were painted mahogany, his thumb had a white ring. You hesitated to accept his offer but nonetheless you did with a shaky hand; he took it with a firm grip. "Yahiko, I-," he raised his free hand to interrupt you, "Pain." Hmm, odd. Things were odd and not exactly adding up in your head but you chose to put that thought into a different place.

Your mind was scattered with hundreds of thoughts and sensory overload was imminent. You looked over to Konan who gave you a small smile, placing her hand on your shoulder. Paper surrounded the three of you and then you were gone. It felt almost nauseating to feel the rain of Amegakure again. It had been longer than you realized since you been in your homeland. You fled soon after the "death" of Yahiko. Defecting from the Village Hidden in the Rain and becoming known as a missing-nin.

As you traveled between villages, you met shinobi from all walks of life. Little did you know you would see some of them later in your travels and become well acquainted. You came to know each village fairly well as you spent several months in each, under a different guise each time. Konohagakure being your favorite -- Sunagakure was your least. (it made using your ninjutsu difficult as the sand on the ground and in the air made everything "fuzzy")

But home was indeed home, the rainy village felt as nostalgic as it did sickening. Konan used her paper jutsu to whisk the three of you away and dropped off at Pain's Tower. The location was his base of operations and where he and Konan resided on off hours. You stood before a massive tower that dominated over the already tall buildings of the industrialized village. You looked up to try and see its point but the rain dripped into your eyes. You hadn't realized that Pain was not with you and it was just you and Konan.

She touched your shoulder, "Come." her arm dropped from your shoulder and she silently led you into the metal skyscraper. It was dark inside. Long hallways stretched in different directions. "Pain wishes to speak to you," she pointed up, "Atop of the tower." She turned away and walked into the darkness, leaving yo to travel the halls yourself. Gee, thanks. Of course it had to be all the way up there. You hated heights and winced at the thought of traveling to the top of the massive building. It took some time making your way to the top; you stumbled across more locked doors than unlocked. Finally an archway led to a flight of stairs which spiraled upward. 

Your stomach turned as you could feel yourself ascending higher and higher. 'Damn those two...' They always found a way to get you to do things you were afraid of as a way to better yourself. Some things really never change - even if the people themselves seem to. You could hear the rain pouring as you reached the final door. Taking a deep breath, you slowly pushed it open to see Pain sitting at the edge of a tongue that was part of the massive face sculpture which decorated the skyscraper. "Pain..." it felt strange calling him by that "name".

His head turned to the right as he acknowledged your presence. You took a step out the door, closed it but remained pressed against the wood firmly. "Are you afraid?" he asked. You chuckled quietly, your tone taut, "Heights aren't exactly my favorite. Remember?" He hummed as he recalled times you were petrified of traversing a mountainside. He urged you to continue on then and he would now. He pushed himself up and stood, his gaze not leaving the horizon of the urbanized sprawl. Pain teleported from his original spot to directly in front of you. His presence felt intimidating.

You trembled for a moment as you could see his chest rise and fall from beneath the black cloak decorated with red clouds. He raised his hands and rested them on your shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze. Your gaze raised from his chest to meet the Rinnegan eyes that he now possessed. They studied you, irises dilated and constricted as he processed his thoughts in silence. It was as if he could sense the insecurity that you felt. It was like you were in the grasp of a stranger. He pulled you into an embrace and his arms felt powerful as they held you. No longer that headstrong teenager.

But an established man with an ambition -- and a man of great power. It took several moments before you embraced him as well. You wrapped your arms around his sturdy frame and breathed him in, hoping that it wasn't just a dream. You closed your eyes and a smile formed on your lips, a small tear forming in the corner of your right eye. A swift brush of wind stirred you from your brief moment of delight. Your eyes opened as you were now facing downward and over the edge of the building.

You couldn't see the ground as it was hidden underneath a blanket of fog from the downpouring rain. But the only thing that kept you from plummeting to your death was Pain's grip on the back of your shirt. He was dangling you over the edge and one slip of the hand would mean your end. You swallowed your scream but fear still coursed through your veins as your breaths turned shallow and quick. "Do you trust me?" Pain asked.

Nonsense sputtered from your lips as the ground seemed to warp in and out. Just when you thought it was going to be all over, you felt yourself being reeled back up and onto the solid platform landing. "No." you barked as you wiped your face of the rain. He hummed in amusement which you reacted to with a shove. His body did not budge from where he stood. You continued with the shoves as frustration built up and was starting to be released. Several times you spat out insults as to how could he be alive the entire time and not try to find you or give you a sign.

You summoned your chakra in your palms, the seismic blasts pushed Pain back and slammed him into the wall. Konan felt the rumble from inside the building and looked up, curious as to what was going on but refrained from interfering. She knew it needed to stay between the two of you. The man shrugged off the blast as if were like a prod from a child and pushed himself out of the impression created in the wall. He brushed off some debris from his cloak and huffed in annoyance, "I can sense that. But I assure you, [Y/N]. I waited for a reason. I need you to trust me." There was a moment of silence before he continued, "I wish to continue our need for peace but no longer by the means of prior philosophies." he paused as he took several steps in your direction, "Only by means such as direct experiences of anguish would anyone truly want and strive for peace." 

"That is why I dangled you over the edge. Only direct action gives honest results. Often the ones we do not wish to hear." His hands touched your shoulders again and his thumbs rubbed the skin of your chin, "I wished to hear you do trust me, however, that is not realistic at the time." Pain stretched a hand out and swept it along the skyline of Amegakure. "I am a God. No longer a man. My words and thoughts have become absolute." The hand still on your body grasped your chin lightly and his gaze returned to you, "I wish to have you aid me in this conquest. World domination. And there is no other that I wish to have by my side.. than you, [Y/N]." A shocked expression displayed on your face and your pupils dilated at his speech. 

"This world shall know pain. As you and I have both felt." Pain pressed his forehead against yours, the cool metal of his forehead protector brought goosebumps to your skin. His Rinnegan burned through your eyes as you processed his words. "I knew I needed you now and not then. I will make it up in the future, I promise. But only if you wish to be my kin once again, [Y/N]." 

You raised your right hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing against the cool metal of his labret piercing. "Yes."

[mementomori-demimonde]

Hidden Scars

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI.1 / XI.2 XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII - IX

Chapter 20

You didn’t die, but you’re not sure you’ll be alive for much longer either. It wasn’t night, but you were both asleep, curled up on each other, gathering strength for whatever was scheduled for you.

Before you could even register the door of the cell opening with a loud squeak you felt a prick on the side of your neck and your world fell again into the darkness.

You’ve woken up with a startle, wrists bound behind your back and you’re laying on the floor in the back of a vehicle, blindfolded; this time, you fail to set yourself free: the knots are too elaborate as if somebody knew all the tricks Miranda has shown you.

The vehicle is moving fast, but aside from the driver, you don’t know if you’re alone, or if Miranda is there too - you doubt she’s the one driving, for one, can you call for her? See if she answers? Or the people behind this will punish you? You honestly don’t care: it’s worth it.

“Miranda?” Your voice is hoarse, your throat hurts, but you don’t regret it when you hear her.

A loud bang.

“And you ask why Victor put you on the phones, you idiot!” She barks.

Not the words you were expecting, but it’s something already: at least now you know she’s in there somewhere close to you.

“We’re almost there anyway, just shut up, Miranda! If it weren’t for me-”

“Fuck off.”

That sets the argument.

What the hell is going on? Is Miranda bound too? She’s in the back too, but awake and talking to the driver - a woman - as if they know each other, and rather well. A friend? Another one of Victor’s? A repentant or simply someone who owed Miranda?

“Stay put.” She tells you, her hand glides your calf. You stir at first, startled by the contact, but you soon find comfort in her presence. “I didn’t want you to get upset and hurt yourself.”

The vehicle stops. The doors are opened, Miranda, besides you, fumbles around and rushes out, not before freeing your wrists in a quick movement.

Still incredibly confused, you pull yourself up and tug the blindfold away.

The bright lights blind you for a moment, your limbs feel too heavy to respond or sustain your weight just yet, so you wait, trying to focus on the two people in front of you: Miranda is shoving papers into her pants, the other woman is talking to her fast, a grave expression on her face. She looks familiar with her black hair pulled up in a ponytail and those haunted eyes - you think you’re mistaken but then the memory flashes in your mind: the glass box inside one of the halls, the woman inside politely answering calls with her headset on. She’s not just any person, she’s the receptionist and she, too, works for Victor. Can you trust her? Despite the friction, Miranda surely seems to.

“He’s reassigned me to England, we don’t have much time.” She says urgently, lightly punching Miranda on her shoulder to call her attention. “I was supposed to hide in the cargo, you take my place, I’ll manage. It’s safe, you can disappear from here.”

Swallowing, you take the surroundings in for the first time: you’re inside a hangar full of planes and boxes of all dimensions and shapes. If it’s not some illegal activity going on in there, it all seems awfully suspicious.

“Not like that- we’ve talked about it, Cecilia!” Miranda protests, gritting her teeth.

“Yeah, I lied.” The woman shrugs. “You’re so fucking stubborn it was the only way. It’s easier if you’re alone, you know it. Don’t be stupid, Miranda!” She cries out. “Besides, don’t be selfish: you’re the one at stake, she can walk out of here and make this all just a bad memory.”

They both look at you with the corner of their eyes and you suddenly feel involved in the discussion, even if it hasn’t been up to you, until now, to make any sort of decision.

Pretend this was all just a dream, from the night she kidnapped you to this, renounce Miranda to give her and yourself the best chance, forget all about this and build another life on the embers of the old ones… it wouldn’t be easy but not impossible. Miranda gives you no future, as things are. She has made you quite clear that she might care for your wellbeing, but that’s as far as she’ll go - and you can’t help wanting more. It’s a dead end.

It’s up to you to put the closure to something that it’s finished before it has even started. She might not feel the same, but you can bear the thought of being her undoing, for whatever reason she’s reluctant to save her own skin.

“Go.” You blurt out, shifting closer to the edge and putting your feet to the ground. “What are you waiting for?”

Miranda looks at you, she swallows, ducks her head, and stares at her own feet for a long moment.

“No.” She croaks out.

“Why?” It’s a chorus, coming from both you and Cecilia. You exchange a glance, you avert her eyes when she glares spitefully at you.

“Because.”

“Miranda!” You protest, try to stand up. You do, stumbling a little, without closing distance with them. “Get on the fucking plane and go!”

“Shut up!” She barks. “I’m thinking.”

“There’s nothing to think about!” Cecilia interjects angrily. “Victor will haunt you down as long as you breathe, the tracker is still online. Your best chance is overseas, trust me. He’d have you both killed by tomorrow anyway.”

Miranda lets out a frustrated sigh.

She takes a few steps away, pacing back and forth like a lion in a cage.

Somewhere close, an engine starts. Men scream to load the last few supplies, others call numbers, boxes as big as cars get pushed on the ramps and into the belly of large planes. It feels like being in the middle of a military base packing for wars… maybe they are packing for wars, but those are not military men.

Once again, Cecilia says there’s no time to fool around: it’s now or never, she won’t be able to get on board and the already slim chances to get away will reduce to zero.

“Miranda, get on the fucking plane!” You shout again, not minding to sound desperate or hysterical. It’s a matter of life and death, right? If she’s safe and far away, you’ll both have high chances to survive. It’s for the best.

Miranda pauses, grits her teeth, and turns to you.

“I will go on the plane, only if you come with me.”

“You’ve always been mental, but this-” Cecilia rolls her eyes, grabbing the brunette by the arm and tugging her roughly back to prevent her from getting closer to you. “It’s too dangerous for the both of you, can’t you see it?”

“No, it’s not!” Miranda replies, tugging herself free. Again, her blue eyes are on you - begging, commanding, you don’t really know. “Come, please.”

You shake your head, chuff out a bittersweet chuckle.

“Give me one good reason.”

Miranda moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue. Carefully, she approaches and, this time, Cecilia does nothing to stop her.

“You said you wouldn’t leave.” She says in a small voice. “It wasn’t the apartment that had you trapped. You chose to stay.”

“That was… in the past.” You murmur back. She’s right: you said you wouldn’t leave - the fact that you said you wouldn’t leave her was implicit, something either of you ever addressed specifically. “Things have changed.”

“Yes, things have changed.” She agrees.

Always cryptic in her consideration, Miranda leaves you puzzled. “You must come.” She whispers, walking even closer in your direction. “I can’t protect you if you’re not with me.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. She’s asking you to follow her still, even if she can’t offer more. She claims she wants to protect you, but for what? After all, you’ve been through together, you can take care of yourself, besides, you hope you’ll be able to leave everything behind quickly.

Protection for its own sake, given just because she feels guilty, or responsible, it’s not what you’re looking for, especially from her. You know what it’s like to be bound to somebody, you don’t wish for her to feel bound to you out of that.

“Miranda, that is not enough.” You murmur, shaking your head.

“But it is enough.”

“It’s not enough for me!”

Miranda lets out a frustrated sigh. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, rubbing her forehead furiously with the pads of her fingers.

“Do I really have to say it?” She says softly, voice low, almost resigned.

She looks and sounds vulnerable and the mere sight has your heart skip a beat, you feel it pumping in your temples, louder and faster.

“Say what?”

“The reason why you need to be on that plane, with me.”

“Why?”

Miranda is quick to close the distance between the two of you, now. You gasp silently when you feel her hands cupping tightly your face, thumbs pressing under your chin to push your head up, forcing you to lock your eyes into her blue ones, coated with a watery sheen.

She swallows thickly, parts her mouth, and warm puffs of air fan your lips.

“Because I love you too, you stupid fucker.” She breathes out, the words ghosting against your skin, lapping at your soul as if they were alive. Something blooms within you, and you can’t help but smile when she does it too. “Please, m’eudail. Come with me.”

[laur-rants]

Fic Update: Blood Wolf

Chapter 3

Fandom: Dishonored Ship: Daud/The Outsider. yes, I made that executive decision.

Rated: Mature to Explicit, Strong Violence and  Gore Ahead!!

Synopsis: Daud-Centric Prequel to Wolfbann. The story centers on how Daud turned, and his subsequent marking by the outsider and his formulation of the Whalers. Notes: There probably won’t be nsfw content in this fic, but it WILL be… violent. I want to play with my own boundaries of written violence and also Daud’s start wasn’t nearly as clean as Corvo’s. Their contrast on dealing with the werewolf transformation is one of the things I want to really explore, and Daud gets very close to falling off the wagon.

CHAPTER TAGS: Daud transforms. It’s horrible and wonderful all at the same time. There is a mild description of consuming a person, but I wouldn’t consider it cannibalism. Necessarily. Werewolves sometimes... eat people. AO3 link First :: Previous :: Next

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Dunwall, Gristol

Month of Clans -- 1820

Daud set up a meeting with the contract creator the next night. It gave him time to prepare, to consider his options and perhaps, to look a little less frightful for the person he wished to work with. The address given on the contract was nondescript; a small general practitioner's office, tucked away in Draper's Ward and identified by the universal dual-snake staff on the window. Daud chose to drop by after hours, of course; no need for others to see the owner conversing with an assassin. He had planted an earlier note to say he would be visiting unconventionally but the individual inside the office room still jumped when suddenly a whaler mask was knocking gently at the upstairs office window.

It was a small man with a round face and large eyebrows that greeted Daud, glasses getting pushed up as he quickly came over, unlatching the terrace doors and allowing the assassin entry. Daud slipped in, silent and stealthy despite the tremble in his hands and shoulders. He hadn't expected his client to be a doctor and quietly hoped the man wouldn't pay close enough attention to ask questions.

"Thank you for finally getting back to me on this contract," the man -- Misha Romanov, if Daud remembered the contract properly -- nervously said, looking over Daud. His eyes trailed from the mask and hood to the black clothes to the whaler blade at his side. He swallowed, clearly intimidated, walking around the office to physically put distance between the two of them. Daud tilted his head, clicking his tongue.

"You've never hired a hitman before," Daud remarked, posing it more as an annoyed observation than a question. It was clear; from the man's unease to the amount of coin offered, he was a novice when it came to dealing with and understanding the job he was asking for. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all; but Daud was here, and it would be ludicrous to turn around now. Might as well make the best of it.

"This is my first time, yes," Misha replied, choosing to busy himself with one of his displayed medical instruments instead of looking Daud in the glassy eye. "I have never had a need before. I try more to save lives, rather than take them, you see." He wrung his hands, then offered a small smile. "But now... my brothers are dead and I have no idea what happened to them, or their dogs. They were the only family I had left… I didn't know where else to turn."

"Misha Romanov then, right?" The doctor nodded, confirming what he knew. "What happened to your brothers-- before they disappeared?" Daud asked, his voice muffled behind the thick mask. Misha, emboldened by the question, answered as clinically as possible, recounting how his brothers had gotten into a dog fighting business over the last few years, completely sucked in, throwing money into dogs and gambling over Fink's wagers. It had been an obsession -- one that ultimately, they didn't return from. Naturally, Misha feared the worst and blamed Eustace and Howard Fink for their disappearance.

"I saw the one brother, Eustace, sulking near the cafe one morning soon after Adrian and Mikhail didn't return at their usual time," Misha supplied, "and that's when I knew I'd be powerless to get justice unless I hired an assassin. So I posted my contract and waited. And waited. I had almost given up on anyone taking the job, until you contacted me. Your interest in this hit is greatly appreciated."

Daud held up a frustrated hand. "Please do not offer appreciation, not until my work is done. I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I'm doing it because it's personal, and the pay is so low only someone like me would take the contract anyway. If anyone is the lucky party in this deal, trust me, it's you."

Misha blinked. "Oh? You… you know Fink?" He then blanched, his face going terrified. "You didn't work for him in the past, did you?"

"No, nothing like that," Daud said, taking a too-ragged breath. He could feel the sweat trickling down his neck, across his wounds-- even that simple contact burned. "I actually was contracted to kill Eustace's brother, Howard. The same day your brothers most likely perished, I almost died, too. Lady Luck herself is the only reason I'm still alive; the Fink brothers were into some deep, disgusting shit."

Misha blinked, adjusting his glasses before giving Daud a more thorough look-over. Daud stiffened under the gaze, suddenly self-consciousness, and he tried to still the tremor of his limbs.

"Are you well now? You appear in pain, or feverish."

Of course this guy could tell. Daud cursed him for being such an astute doctor.

"You're not being paid enough as a doctor if you can tell that just from looking me over," Daud sneered, hiding the rasp of his voice. This only furrowed the man's brow further, his tone growing serious.

"If you need me to offer medical assistance before the mission, I'd be more than willing to--"

"I'm here for a job, doctor. Not a diagnosis."

"Right, of course, of course… But, if you're still in a state when the job is over, consider it part of the payment. I can easily add it to the contract between us, mister…?"

Void-- "Daud. Just Daud." He said, annoyed. "No Lord, no mister, no honorifics at all. I'm an assassin, not a noble."

"Sorry, just trying to be polite. And you know my name, of course, but I can supply a business card if needed--"

"No. All I need is half payment up front, and as many details on Fink that you can provide." Misha nodded; he went to a dusty safe in the corner, opened it, and pulled out a small purse of 100 silver. Daud noticed very few valuables in the safe and wondered just how lucrative being a general practitioner was in the Draper's Ward. Or, perhaps, his gambling brothers had preyed on his meager earnings too, an addiction that drained the doctor and ultimately tore apart their family. He felt the urge to ask, to reach out and inquire, but he managed to keep his curiosity to himself. It wasn't important to the job, and it wasn't Daud's business to know how wealthy his clients were, or where they got the coin they paid him with.

Misha returned with the coin and Daud carefully pocketed it. Misha also handed over papers: they contained a few addresses, including one not too far from here. Daud frowned under the mask, his breath hissing out of the respirator.

"That's his home and work addresses," Misha explained. "I tend to see him at this cafe, Swinney's, down off Cashmere Ave in the mornings. I pass it on my way to the clinic in the mornings."

"That's quite a ways from here," Daud muttered, before he could stop himself. Misha just shrugged.

"The commute is long on foot, but it's what I can afford. Most nights I just stay here. Cheaper that way."

Daud said nothing. Just crumpled the paper in his hand before folding it up and tucking it away, next to his contract.

"Do not be surprised if this takes some time. Assassination is not easy, nor is it quick in the way you expect it is. I will seek you out once the hit is complete, understood?"

Misha nodded, and if he had any further questions, he didn't ask them. "Whatever you need to do, I suppose."

"That's why they call it 'wet work,' Romanov," Daud told him, a hint of dark humor coloring his words. Daud then took his departure, leaving Misha and the office as silently as he had entered.

------

It should be simple. An easy set up: an easy take down. Silent, efficient, no trace to let anyone ask after. Eustace Fink was not well guarded, not spatially aware, and he was incredibly routine. Textbook, really.

Instead, it was shaping up to be one of the hardest stake outs of Daud's career.

He had spent a few days setting up the kill, pulling himself through the motions. He cached any necessary food, plenty of coin, and a few changes of clothes. He knew where he needed to be and when. He had all of his equipment restocked from the black market right outside of the Distillery District, where nobody asked twice about his mask or his stance. It was all ready to go.

But of course it couldn't be that simple. Nothing of importance ever was.

It was the fourth night of his stakeout when it happened. As soon as he settled in to make the hit finally happen, his fever rolled him over like a riptide.

It came on quickly, the nausea. He hadn't expected it; for the last week his fever had been low-grade, barely noticeable. He had, effectively, learned to ignore it. But it came roaring back up as if it was the day he spent crawling out of the sewer. One second, he was relaxing, waiting for Fink to be alone in his own home; the next he was lurching, tossing the whaler mask up and over his head just in time to empty the contents of his stomach over the side of the roof.

It stank so bad he reeled, dry heaving again. He managed to keep the rest of it down, the sweat drenching his forehead as he wiped his mouth with the back of a clammy glove. He growled in frustration, his arms barely holding his weight, but he spent the extra moments to breathe, evening out his heartbeat and emotions. He looked over to the estate; Fink was alone. Daud felt his stomach flip again, making itself known. He swallowed back the sensation; it was now or never.

Sickness be damned, he needed to get this hit off.

He stood and his feet were surprisingly steady for the vertigo he was experiencing. Not that he was worried; Daud had stalked and successfully killed someone drunk before. It was a dare, one that Rulfio didn't think he would go through with, but he was even younger and cockier back then. A little head sickness was nothing compared to that job, but the thought of Rulfio sobered him enough to keep focused on the task at hand. He lithely jumped from the roof, heading to the Draper's Ward residence, as silent as a street cat.

He kept a bead on Fink even as he felt the sweat gather on his forehead again; something in his chest felt like it wanted to burst, and Daud vaguely hoped it wasn't his heart. He slipped on a roof tile, steadied himself, then listened intently, hearing Eustace's voice float up.

"I should be fine, but I can't help but think that I should be more worried about what happened that night. I mean-- I woke up and Howard was dead and so was that huge black magic brute. There was another person, dead in the corner, and so many unlucky bodies that didn't make it out alive… there will be questions soon. So many questions. How do they not smell it there under the Pub? Maybe the rats ate the bodies… how convenient if so. Nothing to investigate, nothing to convict. If the City Watch ever got wind of this..."

It took Daud a bit of processing to suss out if Eustace was speaking to someone else in the room, but no; the beat and cadence was reminiscent of someone recording an audiograph. If he listened closely enough, nearing the balcony door, he could hear the whirr of the machine, the click of the hole punch. His breathing hitched and his pulse thundered in his ear.

His prey was so, deliciously, tantalizingly, close. Daud stayed his hand, listening closely.

The machine stopped, pushing the card out and finishing the audiograph. There were footsteps, and Eustace walked out onto his balcony, his hands tight as he tucked the audiograph away in his vest, where he clearly thought it safe. His back was to Daud and the balcony door, lighting a cigar, the smoke curling up into the warm summer night air.

The wind roared in Daud's ears. It would be so easy to drop down, slit his throat, watch the blood spill over his gloves-- and suddenly he was aching for it, longing for the crunch of bones, the heat of crimson rivers running from a burst vein, the thrill of a new kill…

The thoughts were intrusive and revolting, nearly causing him to heave again. He still managed to hold himself together, not wanting to drown in his mask, even ignoring the persistent itch on his face. The rising threat of bile burned at the back of his throat but he swallowed it down, his grip growing tight on the roof's edge. He held his position and waited, patience baked into him from years of careful practice. Fink eventually finished enjoying his cigar, extinguishing the butt before turning back to his room.

Daud waited for Fink to pass under him. He then slipped down, his boots silent against the stone. He crouched, righted himself, and pulled his blade from his side. His thumb found the notch in the metal.

When Eustace Fink turned around to close the balcony doors, Daud was there, glassy eyes and muzzled mask glaring down at the second noble that had caused this nightmare of his to happen.

Fink opened his mouth to scream. Daud rushed him, faster than he's ever moved. A powerful hand gripped Eustace by the throat, silencing him and guiding him over to a wall far from any escape route. He felt like nothing in Daud's grasp, like he was a weighted bag that Daud had the displeasure of carrying for a friend. The man was larger than him, heftier, and yet Daud could take him and lift him with a single arm, his right hand still holding the blade he'd drawn. It was heady and unbelievable, Daud didn't know where this power was coming from but it surged through him like a rising storm. He tapped further into that tempest, slamming Eustace into the wall next to his desk.

The man whimpered. Daud snarled. Fink flinched and gasped and Daud almost laughed. He can't believe someone so weak-hearted tried to command a literal monster.

Or perhaps, a nasty little voice in his head supplied, the monster was the weak one... Show him that you are different. Show him what your Power is.

"You and your brother sure made a lot of enemies, didn't you, Eustace…" Daud growled out, his teeth feeling oddly heavy, morphing his words as he spoke them. They came out graveled and sharp and he suppressed the urge to lick his lips as he continued. "If I'm here, you have a bigger problem than the City Watch finding bloated bodies under a riverside bar."

Fink said nothing. Instead, he started crying. Of all things, the man wept in front of his soon-to-be killer. Daud almost recoiled in disgust; this man wasn't even worth the coin. He slammed Fink against the wall again, eliciting a startled yelp from him.

"Do you even know why I'm here, Eustace Fink?" Daud spat the name out like it was undercooked blood ox. "Do you know who killed your brother? It was the assassin who you thought was dead in the sewers when you woke up. Your brother's monster ruined me but I survived and if you value your life, you're going to give me the answers I deserve."

His voice grew in power despite the low whisper he spoke with. His words filled his own ears, reaching the room around them, and Fink gulped visibly. He looked Daud over, rasping against the hold that kept him in place.

"Did it mark you?" He asked, finally. "The Outsider's monster?"

"And if it did?" Daud threatened, mask dangerously close to Fink's face. "What does it matter?" He brought the blade up, his head tilting. "What do you know, Eustace Fink?"

"Ah, I-I don't know as much as Howard did! He found the original beast, not me! But it… they always changed. The curse was always passed down. There isn't a cure for it. They all went mad and eventually--" Eustace gasped and his words died as Daud's grip dangerously tightened. He recalled what Brimsley had said to him, the words burning in his ears.

"You're one now too, aren't you?"

Daud's body lurched. His grip loosened, freeing Fink as that nausea filled him again, along with a different sensation, one where his head, his chest, his limbs wanted to burst, his skin scorching him all over.

"No," Daud rasped out, his eyes far away. "I am not--" He stared at his gloves; his vision blurring dangerously. When Fink tried to crawl away, however, his sight caught the movement, head turning sharply. In a flurry, the blade was singing through Eustace's heels; the tendons sliced like butter and Fink collapsed, crying out. The blood pooled around his ankles, the smell of it sharp in Daud's nose. Eustace stayed prone on the floor, whimpering, his face rapidly losing color as shock set in.

Pathetic.

Daud hunched over Fink's form, his breath ragged and heavy. Eustace stared at him, eyes wet and terrified, and Daud felt his seams unravel, his body falling apart.

"It's happening? Here, now? Oh Void, oh Outsider's eyes…" Fink continued to babble, crying out for the fabled god of the Void, as if such an entity existed, could even save him from what was happening. Daud opened his mouth to refute Eustace; it came out as a splintered roar, words failing him.

"Where is your god, Eustace?" His voice boomed, but he did not know where the words came from, not when his mouth was making such unearthly noise. "You were the one who played god, killing assassins for your games, your bloody gambling coin. Did you think yourself honorable, setting such a trap? How many men died to serve you and your fucked up brother?"

Eustace paled and he looked so small, so tiny, so weak. To think this man and his brother succeeded as much as they had, enslaving unknowing participants for entertainment…

His head reeled in anger and rage. He pulled the man close, his hands curling into smoking, burning claws that dig deep into Eustace's clothes, ripping at skin.

"Stop praying to a god who won't listen! This is your reality! Now face your judgement!"

Daud ripped the whaler mask off and underneath was no longer the face of a man. A true muzzle burst from his face, black and filled with glistening, razored fangs. His wounds burned and steamed as his eyes bulged and he screamed, the pain of the last month consuming him entirely. Ribs cracked and bones shifted and he grew, his body doubling, tripling. His skin was tearing off and it felt so good, like he had been waiting his whole life, his whole existence, for this singular moment of unbridled ecstasy.

He roared and it was like the land, the sea, like the Void itself, shook under the sound of his cry. He laughed, eyes watering, filled with relief and pain and it was all so much, too much. He screeched, the sounding reminiscent of a dying whale, before his teeth slammed together like a crashing wave. Fink was still in his vicinity; he could smell the fear, hear the pleading, but all it did was anger him further. He didn't need this sniveling worm of a human.

A clawed hand grabbed Eustace and in the next second his body was in ribbons. Guts spilled and a head rolled and Daud felt his mind flee, the smell of iron and heat overwhelming his senses in a way he'd never known after a kill. Suddenly he was ravenous, he needed that blood on his tongue. He obliged his primal desire, ripping the man's arm off with ease, letting bone and fat and muscle fill his mouth with the heat of a fleeing life.

There was a scream. Daud's ears caught it and he turned, lip curling. He had nothing to say to the woman standing in the door, hair tied back and clutching her dress. The sound of her distress continued, unwavering. Daud stepped towards her, snarling.

She ran.

He was moving faster than he could ever have imagined, his legs possessing a strength that was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. His body moved on its own accord, spurred on by the thrill of the hunt, of the pursuit of prey and he was giddy, drunk off it. The house was a maze but his nose cut through the turns, following the fear and nausea, the horror of his unhinged rampage left in his wake. Walls and doors meant nothing; his body either forced its way through or smoked through openings, dissolving and coalescing in ways he didn't understand and spent no time dwelling on. He was consumed instead with the goal of reaching for and pouncing on his next victim, then the next. He caught sounds over the rush of his own blood; a tiny shrill voice here, a male voice there, the howl of hounds released upon him. All of them meant nothing; their teeth could not hurt him now. Their attacks were just pin pricks of lucidity within his fever dream, all dying or cowering before his unbridled wrath. Two dogs were bodily thrown, another bitten in half, still another tossed at a human handler, throwing both dog and man through a wall. He pursued, determined to not let anyone in the house escape. Not this time. Not after this hell month, not after everything--

A drop of water rippled through the chaos of his mind. The scent of the sea filled his nostrils, the sound of whales keened in his ears. Daud stilled, suddenly entranced, and turned his head.

A rune chittered and vibrated and sang on an ensconced shrine. The room was small, perhaps a hidden pantry; it had been revealed when Daud had thrown the body through the wall. Purple cloth fluttered from the disturbance of the crash and used candles scattered about the floor and table.

Someone was sitting on that table, cross-legged: someone lithe, dark, and still holding the ageless beauty of youth. Despite the slim, ethereal frame the person presented, Daud could sense the incredible shadow lurking just out of sight, the leviathan crying from the deep.

The figure smiled, his black, endless eyes glittering. He beckoned, and Daud obeyed. Like a leashed hound, he was irrevocably pulled under the waves, his huge body buckling before the sight of something greater, something far more ancient than he could ever fathom to be. He bowed his giant furred head and cold hands ran over his wounds, calming the persistent itch and smoothing away his month-long fever. Daud whined, giving himself over entirely as the figure held him close, arms embracing him like a long lost lover. The voice in his ears calmed his storm and soothed his pain and called him Home.

"Oh, Daud, beautiful Daud," the man cooed and Daud was enraptured, a whale's cry leaving him like a warbled gasp. The grip tightened on him and suddenly his body was melting away, the fur turning to ash to reveal his human skin underneath. He breathed, his left hand itching pleasantly where the figure held it, the other hand running smooth circles across his shoulders and down his back. Daud looked up into that ancient face and when it smiled, there was no warmth, no stars in those endlessly black eyes.

"I knew you would come back to me, Daud. After all..." the god's smile spread, breaking his face.

"...It was just a matter of time."

[thethistlegirlwrites]

I've seen a few people do your character asks for a lot of people, and I wanted to know if I could too? Or does it get annoying to answer for so many characters? 🍵for all of them, if you don't mind, and I totally understand if you do mind

OH PLEASE ASK AWAY!!! I am happy to go wild over all my OCs! Honestly trying to focus on one WIP is like trying to pick a favorite child lol. 🍵Half Tea & Half Lemonade: what is a goal your OC is working towards? Do they have smaller goals as well as something large? What progress have they made? Are they open to revision or adamant about what they need to accomplish? Magic & Silver Robin - Robin wants answers about what happened to his father. That's the overarching goal that's driven the rest of his smaller goals. He wanted to become a vampire hunter to try and investigate his father's disappearance, and he stayed in the job even when things got bad because he didn't want to lose his chance at getting answers. Robin isn't very open to changing that goal, and he insists on staying in the field when he changes agencies, because he swore a binding fae oath to find out what happened to his father and he literally can't change that. John - John wants to protect his fellow hunters the best he can. He feels responsible for the others he works with, and he's a very protective person at heart. He's changed how he chooses to do that, switching from an active field role to a training one, but he still does his best to make sure his trainees will have the best chance of surviving the job. Kira - Kira got into the hunter world trying to track down the vampire who attacked her and her mother. Even though he's since been staked, she's stayed on the job because the hunter research facilities have given her a huge opportunity to make scientific and technical breakthroughs. Her goal now is to improve the lives of both hunters and ordinary people with her work. Cody - Cody wants to be an author. He's currently a librarian to pay the bills, but his end goal is to get one of his myriad manuscripts published. He's a storyteller and he wants to share his stories with the world. Maira - Maira wants to make sure the human and vampire communities live in peace with each other. Her goal in her whole career has been to mediate disputes and try to find ways of bringing disparate groups together and getting them to see past conflict. Partnering Robin and John is an attempt at that on a small scale. Emma - Emma wants to make sure no one else goes through what she did, being unwillingly turned into a vampire. She keeps a close eye on what happens in her club, which she promotes as a place humans and vampires can mix, so that curious kids will come to her club and not go looking in more dangerous places. She also uses her position as the owner to gather information and pass it on to John. Arion - Arion wants to enjoy his un-life. His philosophy of the world is very hedonistic and self-serving. He doesn't care who else is damaged along the way, but he wants to have the things he enjoys. He's willing to sacrifice to get those things, which can sometimes make him appear to enjoy an austere existence, but he has specific goals, and his current one is to capture and enjoy a part-fae and their unique blood. Between the Trees Brooke - Brooke wants to keep her family together. The only people in her village she can count on are her adoptive father and brother, so she doesn't want to lose either of them. She'll do whatever it takes to hold onto the only people who haven't treated her as sub-human because of her vitiligo. Aspen - Aspen wants to heal people. He's never forgotten that he would have died as a child if not for the village healer who helped him, and he wants to pass that on to someone else. He feels like he was saved for a reason. Will - Will wants to protect his kids. He's a soldier at heart, and he will defend them however he can. He's tried to do that by adopting them and keeping them away from the main life of the village, but that's no longer enough, and he's been forced to try and find another, and more permanent, solution to keep them from being dragged into the dangers of the life they all lead. Written in Ink Jesse - Jesse wants to find a way to get humans to rethink their perception of the fae, so they will roll back the incredibly dangerous fae registration laws. He thinks his best chance of that is to take a job in the human world, and the idea of being a hunter appeals to him because he was rescued in the past by hunters and would like to be able to help someone else like him. 

Amy - Amy wants to do the most good she can while she's still alive. She used to want to be a highly decorated hunter, but being bitten and infected by a vampire changed her perception. Now she's firmly aware of her own mortality, and she wants to do things that matter, because she has no idea how much time she has left. Tina - Tina is a healer, and she wants to not only physically heal people, but heal the rifts that have opened between the humans and fae. She doesn't like seeing pain of any kind and she wants to do what she can to relieve that. Who Fights Monsters (Doing the ones I know for this, there's a HUGE cast of characters and not all of them are speaking to my yet) Joe - Joe wants to keep his family safe and living in harmony. As the pack leader, he sees his role as keeping the peace between family members and presenting a united front to the rest of the world. He tries to make decisions that have the best chance of keeping the family together and alive, and the loss of Abby has made him a bit more cautious in his perspective. He can't stand the thought of losing another member of his family right now, be that to an unsolvable difference in opinion, or to something happening to them from the outside. Tom - Tom wants to make sure his family is safe. He values family loyalty above all else, and he will do whatever it takes to protect his pack, no matter the cost. He trusts his family to be in the right, and he will defend them even when things look bad. Maya - Maya is a bit torn between what she feels is her duty and what she finds to be her heart. She feels that her gift is meant to be used to bring people closure and find answers for them, but with a family to raise, she has to balance that perspective with looking after her own family and being what they need. While registration laws were in place, she stayed away from the city life in order to make sure she wouldn't be taken away from her family for being unregistered, but now that that's changed, she's once again trying to find a balance in her life. Kate - Kate wants to make sure people are treated with fairness and honesty. She only takes cases she truly believes are just. She has a stronger than usual sense of the fae value of honesty, and people twisting the system to get away with things they should pay for infuriates her. She wants the right thing to be done, and that to her is the highest importance. She has a strong sense of right and wrong and her morality is more black-and-white than the rest of her family. Erin - Erin wants to be a valued part of her family. She feels like an outsider, since she struggles with her shifting magic. While her family doesn't treat her differently because of that, she still feels as if she's somehow lacking some important feature of what it is to be a Phelan, and she wants to find a way to be herself and still be a good member of the family.