#so anyway. this is where and how they met the vexes for the first time

[angeart]

hhau mimic arc rambles part III bonus: the eclipse

(~2,8 k words) // other parts & au masterpost here

Every couple of years, there’s a total eclipse in this world. The moon is big, obscuring the sun in a horrible totality, entrapping it for what feels like too long. This is a big event, but not because people are eager to spectate the sky and bask in its weirdness. No, it has much worse connotations.

Because the eclipsed moon affects many of the hybrids. Especially the animal ones.

Hunters look forward to the eclipse because it promises a lot of loud, distressed, instinct-driven hybrids scattering about without many defences. They prepare traps specifically for this occasion and organise big hunting parties, eager for the upcoming bloodbath and bounty.

The eclipse happens mid-winter while Scar and Grian are on the server.

And it’s awful.

[cws violence, murder (no known characters), panic, mind-altering states and a loss of self control, haywire instincts, non-consensual manhandling, horrory vibes]

They don’t really know what is happening at first. Hermitcraft is a safe server which has many things coded differently, and because eclipses hurt many hybrids, they never happen there. So Scar and Grian have never experienced anything like this, and the yank it has on Grian’s state in particular is startingly sharp and terrifyingly confusing.

Scar himself is alright, because—and the two of them don’t know this at the time—vexes are immune to the eclipse. 

Actually, that’s not quite accurate. The eclipse helps heighten their magic.

They thrive.

Grian does anything but thrive.

His instincts go absolutely batshit haywire. He starts getting disoriented and incredibly uneasy, anxiety holding him in a choke hold, and all rationality and caution leave him, replaced by pure fear. 

He starts making inadvertent chirping sounds, panicked, and no matter what Scar says or does, Grian can’t seem to stop.

It’s so dark outside. And Grian’s chirping isn’t the only one that sounds through the forest.

In a world where they thought avians might be all nearly hunted to extinction, there are now suddenly, in this darkness, piercing faraway chirps. Just as panicked and lost-sounding as Grian’s own.

But those are not the only sounds the looming forest has to offer.

There’s also hollering and cheers. Whistles and barks. Twigs snapping under careless boots. Hunter parties following every single hybrid noise right to its source only to slice it shut. Shrill, chilling screams before some hybrid inevitably plunges into absolute, horrifying silence.

Scar’s desperately trying to get Grian to shush. He pleads him to stop, to be quiet. Tries to calm him down.

But it’s all futile. Grian has no control over himself. He can’t make it stop; it’s a wholly new kind of fear, overpowering and unfamiliar, yanking at his instincts. (It feels, a little bit, like a huge moon crashing down while the ground underneath him shakes and disintegrates.) (It feels like locking eyes with someone and not being sure if he’ll ever get to see them again.) (It feels like apocalypse. Like the end.) (His mind screams at him and he can’t help but scream along with it.)

Scar wonders if he should put a hand over Grian’s mouth. He doesn’t know what to do, but the hunters are out there, in large numbers, tireless and eager, and Grian’s voice is now the beacon luring them over, pinging with their exact location.

Grian is slowly backing away, hunched, feathers puffed. His wings are semi-curled around him, no longer tucked under the cloak, even though they’re out in the open. 

He doesn’t seem like he’d do well with being touched.

But Scar needs him to be quiet. For Grian’s sake too.

Before Scar can do anything, though, Grian’s earwings flit wildly and he whips his head to the side, honing in on some noise.

It’s a distressed chirp, one that sounds closer than any of the other ones. 

It’s an avian in distress calling for help.

Grian thought there aren’t any avians but him, and now there is one, still alive, so very close, desperate for aid, and— Grian’s mind blanks. There’s only one single thing to do here. He isn’t thinking. His heart beats wildly in overdrive. His body moves.

Blindly, Grian bolts in the direction of the sound. 

And it’s up to Scar to scramble and run after him. 

It’s more than that. More than just following Grian. Because there is so much at stake, and he needs to stop him and quiet him and— And he might have to exert force, and—

Oh. He is basically hunting Grian down here.

He is the hunter following in the steps of a terrified avian.

And Grian, in his dazed and fragmented perception of the world, feels just like prey. There is so much happening for him right now: it’s dark and all he can see is Scar’s piercing vex eyes when he glances over his shoulder; he’s lost in panicky instincts, trying to reach another avian in distress, hurtling blindly towards potential danger; and he does feel hunted.

On top of that, he can’t stop the stream of bird noises. He can’t pull his wings under his cloak either. He’s stumbling and tripping and scaping himself all over, but he feels like he needs to keep running.

He no longer knows if he’s even heading the right way. The chirping he was following fell dead silent. His head is just screaming at him. Hot white panic and a cacophony of unstoppable, overpowering instincts.

Scar has to stop him before he gets himself killed.

As awful as it is, Scar doesn’t care about that other potential avian (it could be a trap) nearly as much as he cares about Grian. His priorities here are clear, desperation thick and loud in his lungs, pressing at his ribs. There’s no time for bargaining or for steeling himself. 

He needs to act.

Scar grabs Grian and tackles him to the ground.

He’s pinning him down, sort of straddling him, hands on Grian’s mouth, hopelessly trying to muffle the noises. He feels absolutely vile, but he doesn’t know what else to do. His breaths come in little sharp huffs of blue magic, shiny through the darkness as he expels a ton of emotional energy just to keep himself from panicking and crying.

He finds that it’s not as easy to hold Grian down when he doesn’t want to be pinned down. But also it is. It is easy, far too easy—harrowingly so. Grian’s so light. (It frightens Scar to even touch the thought of how simple this would be for the hunters too.) 

He’s terrified of hurting Grian accidentally. He’s very capable of it; Grian’s made of brittle hollow bones after all, and Scar’s grip is a bit too strong, but he doesn’t have a choice here. Grian won’t stop thrashing, fighting to be freed. (But Scar knows that letting go would almost surely result in Grian’s death.)

And where Grian’s attention is kind of selective, not processing things at all, Scar’s attention is sharp—sharpened by panic—keenly attuned to their surroundings. He hears all the various noises come and go. Not necessarily chirps; other hybrids, too. Them falling silent. The hunters yelling. And the screams. God. The awful screams.

They’re all too far away for now, thankfully, but if Grian won’t stop, they’re bound to come this way. After all, if Scar can hear them, surely they can hear Grian too—?

Scar feels nauseous and horribly helpless. The hunters cheer and laugh as the hybrid noises go dead silent, one by one— only the hounds left barking and howling in their wake.

Scar knows that, even though it’s awful, they can’t help any of those hybrids. But he’s going to do everything in his power so that at least the two of them can survive this.

Despite all his (pointless) efforts, the hunters catch up to them anyway.

As they approach, Scar is struggling to quiet Grian down, and Grian isn’t thinking straight enough to properly fight. It’s the worst possible situation. 

There’s no point in quieting Grian down anymore when the hunters are right here though, and so Scar moves on the defensive, ready to give it all to keep Grian alive. The fight is ugly, drenched in frightening desperation; Scar is numb to the pain even when something tears. Grian’s chirps get worse. Warmth drips down Scar’s face.

But then a different sort of howling breaks through Scar’s mounting panic, and—

A group of wild vexes rushes in. Not to save Scar and Grian in particular; it’s just a lucky timing.

Because as it turns out, just the way hunters set off to hunt down hybrids during the eclipse, the vexes—who are more powerful at this time, magic thrumming strongly in their veins—set off to hunt down the hunters. So nicely accumulated for them. So loud. So easy to find. 

The vexes and the humans clash, and in the swell of the chaos, Scar manages to drag Grian away. 

He wants to keep going, increase the distance between them and everyone else as much as possible, but all too soon the forest opens up into fields, and no way he’s pulling a dazed Grian out there where they can’t hide. So instead he swerves, anchoring them against a rock formation—an array of boulders and a jagged cliff wall. 

He presses Grian into a small dent there, covering him with his own body (imprisoning him there, in a way). Hiding Grian’s wings, muffling his chirps, whispering frantic things that are meant to be soothing. The sky is still dark, and Grian’s still chirping, although it’s quieter now; it’s clear he’s exhausting himself, but he’s still making noises. Still unable to stop, despite the terror and the fatigue.

They get found again.

But it’s not the human hunters that find them this time. It’s the vex group, sneaking up on them, all their sharp edges drenched in blood, glowing with magic.

Scar turns his back to Grian, still pressing against him, tucking him against the rocks, hiding him as much as possible. He’s ready to lash out. He’s ready to fight with these vexes, even if he’s outnumbered. (He’s got no species loyalty here, after all.) 

In a curious tone, one of the vexes says: “That avian is going to get you killed.”

The words register to Grian through the haze. He’s still absolutely lost amidst this all, barely understanding the world around him, struggling to process anything. But there’s something about the words avian and get you killed, and the thought of Scar, that makes it through the fog.

It only serves to make him more distressed. He breathes in sharp, shallow breaths, and his chirping grows louder again, high pitched. But it’s not just the chirps this time. Some of the sounds he makes are choked, merging into something more like himself—the sound of helpless sobs.

Scar is shielding Grian with his back, but that means he’s turning his back on Grian’s cries and all of his misery. He cannot comfort him. He has no words that would make Grian not afraid right now.

The vex suggest leaving Grian or—worse—using him as a bait.

Scar’s staring them down, growling lowly, one eye squinted as blood runs down his face. “How about you leave.”

The vex don’t budge. They think they’re after a good thing here, after all. Surely, Scar also wants these hunters dead?

What they’re suggesting isn’t to sacrifice Grian as a bait—they don’t actually want to outright hurt or endanger him, even if it maybe doesn’t translate well through their stance and words. They’re not malicious in that way. What they’re suggesting is simply pragmatic in their minds. (I mean, they wouldn’t grieve if the avian happened to die there, but it wasn’t their goal to let it happen.) 

“We’re hunting the humans,” they note, as if that should’ve been enough to sway Scar. “We could use the avian—”

“No.”

One of the vex, white hair braided and smile sharp, peeks past Scar, trying to glimpse the feathers. The violet shade reflected in the glow of their magic tells him everything he needs to know, sating his curiosity, and he whistles, impressed. Amazed that an avian like this has lasted so long.

Scar lunges at him for getting too close.

He gets laughed at in return. What’s he gonna do, all alone? Not even channelling his magic to heal his own wound. It’s just funny to them. Cute. “What’re you going to do?” they tease, a bit too cheerily for the situation at hand. It rings threatening. “You’re outnumbered, pal.”

Scar doesn’t back down. “I’d take at least one of you down with me.” It’s a big statement. Covering up all of his nauseating fear and unending tension. Because he’ll do it. He’ll fight if he has to, and it will be ugly, and he might fail—he might die—but he’ll for sure give it everything he has.

And he can tell there’s camaraderie between this group of vexes. That they don’t really want any of them seriously hurt. 

They, as vexes, know the best how dangerous a feral, cornered vex with something to protect can be.

There’s a sliver of respect this earns Scar, unbeknownst to him. The will to stand up to them even when he’s outnumbered like this. To not give in to the pressure and instead fight for his values. For what he cares for.

The white haired vex—seemingly a leader of the group of sorts—reiterates, tone a bit lower, that the avian is going to get Scar killed. That he’d be better off without him. (Essentially voicing the deep rooted fear Grian already has.)

He also extends an invitation, almost in the same breath, impressed by Scar standing up to them. But it’s only Scar who is invited, and it’s blatant—the condition laid down is drop the avian or let’s use him as a bait and hunt together. 

With sharp ire and a swell of protectiveness, Scar counters that he’d be better off without them, actually.

There’s a snort and a mocking, “Aight, let’s see how long you can last.”

The relief Scar feels when they relent and leave is immense, leaving him weak in his knees.

He thinks they’re foolish, risking themselves like that. In his mind, they’re the definition of the violent vex, that dark reputation that seems to now stick to Scar and follow him too by the virtue of being the same kind of hybrid. He doesn’t want anything to do with that. 

And of course, he’d never leave Grian.

Grian is his last connection to home. He loves him, even if it never feels like it’s enough.

Excruciatingly slowly, sun eventually peeks back out. But even then, it takes Grian a very long time to untangle himself from these dazed, nonsensical instincts. It’s such a heavy, sticky veil and he’s left disoriented and confused for the longest time. Through his exhaustion, he feels weak and dizzy and out of it.

Scar is also exhausted, but they’re nowhere near safe yet. Still pressed against the rocks. Every nerve ending is flared up, Scar’s senses alert to the point of flinching at the subtlest sound, hypervigilant. But as Grian slumps and quiets down, Scar’s firm grip on him follows. 

Slowly, so slowly, Scar’s hold on Grian becomes comforting instead of restricting and terrifying.

He can tell that it left bruises.

Scar hates everything about it, but— They’re alive.

The sun is back, Grian is quiet, and they’re alive.

But they still need to find safety. And Grian’s so frazzled, still processing what even happened. The blurred memories of chirps and howls and screams swirl through his mind. He feels lightheaded, and like his skull is stuffed full, unable to think clearly. He doesn’t quite understand any of it, and his body feels locked in place. 

Grian wants to stay sitting here until everything starts making sense, but they don’t have that kind of time. They can’t stay. They need to move. They need to properly hide. 

Scar feels awful, but he needs to push through. He needs to force Grian to move.

The snow is splattered with blood. The forest is dead silent, scattered bodies left behind all across it. The area is riddled with traps, some activated and others still hidden, waiting to be triggered. 

The sun is shining.

The silence is eerie.

The scent of blood is thick and fresh and nothing feels safe.

--

Later, when Grian’s more coherent, he says, “They were right.” In an incredibly quiet, fragile, unsteady voice—but laced with determination—he tells Scar: “You should’ve taken their deal.”

Scar immediately tries to dismiss it. Preferably to not engage with this conversation at all. “Not interested.”

Grian registers the shut down of the discussion, but that doesn’t make it any less loud inside of his mind (and heart). He simply goes quiet and withdraws. Lips pursed, lightly frowning, staring somewhere away.

They don’t talk about it again.

Late at night, when Grian can’t sleep because he’s too high strung, he thinks of how it’d feel like, to be used by those vexes as a bait.

He dreams about it.

He dreams of faraway chirps and laughter and hounds finding him.

He has so many nightmares after this.

-------

BONUS screenshot for shits n giggles:

[twelveyearsofit]

under pressure

word count: 3.8k

summary: You can’t seem to get away from the Marauders and their hopeless flirting. After turning them down continually, the four of you get paired up for a Potions project. With the help of a messy dorm room and a record player, you find out you may have more in common than you thought.

content: poly!marauders x slytherin!reader, just a bit of language, kind of enemies to lovers maybe?, a tiny mention of jegulus tehe, grumpy x sunshine trope, idk i think that’s it?? lmk if there’s anything else!

authors notes: here it finally is!! sooo sorry it took me so long to post this, life has been crazy recently! also i know that under pressure isn’t exactly time accurate for when they were at hogwarts but just go along with it ily! i’m probably gonna make this a series so if you have any ideas or suggestions please leave a comment or request! anyways pretty please lmk what you think!! enjoy lovies!

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Another day of trying to fend off the Marauders with a fucking stick. You weren’t known for being particularly warm to anyone, let alone to the three boys who terrorized your house-mates daily, even though you always seemed to escape their pranks untouched. Unfortunately, your cold demeanor never deterred them from trying to charm you. Each of them, in their own way, had attempted to catch your attention, only to find your wit and icy demeanor an insurmountable wall. Every attempt was more vexing than the last, and you were growing more perturbed by the sight of them every day. It did, however, brighten your day a little, in some sick way, seeing their faces when you turned them down.

James was the first to try. Armed with his trademark confidence and lopsided grin, he cornered you outside the Potions classroom one afternoon, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Hey angel,” he greeted, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“We have class together, Potter,” you replied flatly, brushing past him and into the classroom.

Unbothered, he followed you, sliding into the seat next to yours despite the scowl you shot his way. “You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“That sounds dangerous.”

He laughed, undeterred by the jab you threw at him. “You’re funny. I like that. So, how about this—you, me, Remus, Sirius, a butterbeer in Hogsmeade this weekend?”

You didn’t even look up from your parchment. “I’d rather spend the weekend brewing Bubotuber pus.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning closer. “You’ll be missing out on the best date of your life.”

You leaned away automatically before finally meeting his gaze, your expression blank. “And you’ll be missing out on your dignity if you don’t leave me alone.”

James blinked, momentarily stunned, before letting out a bark of laughter. “Alright, angel. I like a challenge.”

“Good,” you said, turning back to your work. “Because you’re not getting anything else.”

He nodded with brows raised, “I’m aware.”

You spent the rest of class dodging his looks and ignoring his sickeningly sweet comments, gathering your books and hurrying out as soon as class was over, successfully avoiding any more hopeless persuading from James.

Sirius Black was the next to suffer. He prided himself on his charm. He’d never met a girl he couldn’t win over—until you.

It started in the library, where you were seated alone at a table, engrossed in a particularly dense-looking book. Sirius slid into the seat across from you, his signature smirk firmly in place.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he drawled, propping his chin on his hand.

You rolled your eyes internally and didn’t look up. “Black.”

“Studying hard, I see. Not that you need to. I bet you’re brilliant at everything.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said, turning a page.

He grinned. “I’ve got other tricks up my sleeve.”

“I doubt that.”

His smirk faltered for a split second, but he recovered quickly. “Alright, love. What would it take to get you to have dinner with me?”

“An entirely different personality,” you said, still not looking up. You knew that statement was mostly true, or maybe, deep down, you were trying to convince yourself more than him.

He let out an exaggerated gasp. “You wound me.”

“Not yet,” you muttered, scribbling something in the margins of your book.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, clearly torn between frustration and amusement. “You’re playing hard to get.”

“No,” you said, finally meeting his eyes with a deadpan expression. “Try impossible.”

For once, Sirius had no response. He dragged in a breath, knowing he was losing momentum the longer he stayed silent. He sided with giving the table a quick tap as he got up and reluctantly walked away, mentally kicking himself for being off his game.

Remus Lupin was the final victim. He was subtler in his approach. He wasn’t one for grand gestures or flashy lines; instead, he opted for quiet conversation and shared study sessions. You were virtually looking over your shoulder every five seconds, knowing he would be trying his hand with you at some point. You avoided all three boys as much as you could, turning heel and leaving if you saw them coming your way in the corridor or entering the room you were in. Of course, your luck ran out.

He found you in the greenhouse one afternoon, tending to a particularly finicky Venomous Tentacula.

“Need a hand?” he offered, stepping carefully around the plant, his hands in his pockets.

You glanced at him, brow raised. “Not from you,” You paused, taking in the calm air around him, and against your better judgement, spoke again. “What would you know about Venomous Tentaculas?”

“Not much, but enough to know not to touch it,” he said with a small smile.

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t smile back. “I’m fine, thanks.”

He leaned against the workbench, watching you carefully prune the plant. “You’re good at this.”

“Obviously.” You kept an eye on him out of your peripherals, apprehensive, surprised he wasn’t trying to get in a spare word wherever he can, like James and Sirius did.

He chuckled softly. “I was being polite.”

“Well, don’t,” you said, setting down your shears and brushing dirt off your hands, turning to face him. “It’s unnecessary.”

Remus hesitated, then said, “You know, you don’t have to be so guarded all the time.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you don’t have to waste your time trying to psychoanalyze me.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were,” you scoffed, cutting him off. “And for the record, I don’t need your pity or your approval. So, if you’re done, I have actual work to do.”

Remus sighed, pushing off the workbench. “Alright, dove. I’ll leave you to it.”

And there’s another dreaded pet name. “Good idea.”

As he walked away, he glanced back over his shoulder. You were already focused on the plant again, seeming as if he hadn’t been there at all. When you heard the door shut behind Remus as he left, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He was the most tolerable out of the three, giving you space when you asked for it, leaving when you wanted. He was calmer than the others, a quality you appreciated. You shake the thought out of your head and pick up the shears once more.

The boys reconvened in the Gryffindor common room that evening, nursing their bruised egos.

“She’s impossible,” James declared, flopping onto the couch.

“Completely heartless,” Sirius agreed, though his tone was more impressed than frustrated.

“I told you,” Remus said calmly, sipping his tea. “She’s not interested.”

James sat up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or maybe… she just doesn’t know us well enough yet.”

Sirius grinned. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Remus sighed. “This can’t possibly end well.”

But he didn’t stop them from planning their next move.

Within two weeks, their plan was in motion. The three boys were so dedicated that they spared time out of their precious weekend and stayed after Potions one day, ambushing Slughorn. Somehow, pretty easily in fact, they managed to convince him to make the four of you partners for the new project. Sirius put it under the guise of needing your “brilliant brain and knowledge” because he and James were “trying to be better students”. As if.

The next week, Slughorn announced the groups for the project. You sighed and narrowed your eyes at the three boys, knowing that somehow, this was their doing. If it was one thing, they were persistent. If only they put that effort into their schoolwork.You hoped you could just get this over with as soon as possible, you would even do all the work yourself to avoid being stuck in a room with them. You hurried out of class that day, annoyed. You shoved through the boys as they had tried to make their way to you as soon as you were dismissed.

You sat at your usual spot in the library, a fortress of books surrounding you, quill scratching furiously across parchment, trying to possibly finish the project without having any contact with the three menaces seated across the library. You could hear them whispering just a few tables away, their presence proving to be an irritating hum in the back of your mind. Sirius laughed, low and rich, and you refused to look up.

“Hey, angel,” James called, sliding into the seat across from you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and instead flipped the page of your textbook. “Since we’re all partners for the Potions project, we thought we’d… collaborate.”

“I don’t recall asking for collaboration,” you replied dryly, not sparing him a glance.

“That’s the thing about group projects,” Sirius chimed in, plopping into the chair beside you, a roguish grin plastered on his face. “It doesn’t require your approval.”

You raised a brow, scooting your chair away from him slightly. “I didn’t realize Gryffindors believed in forcing unwilling participants into things. Aren’t you supposed to be noble or something?”

Remus, the most tolerable of the trio, slid into the seat on your other side, carrying a stack of books. “You’re right, dove,” he said smoothly, voice calm and measured. “But unfortunately for you, Slughorn paired us up.”

Your jaw clenched. Sluggy and his infuriating belief in “Inter-House unity.”

“Fine,” you said sharply. “But don’t expect me to do all the work while you three mess around.” In truth, you were happy to do all the work if it meant you could escape this conversation.

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” James said, eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

The next evening, you found yourself in the Gryffindor dormitory, an unfamiliar space that smelled of old parchment, broom polish, faintly of Sirius’ cologne, and something you can only describe as teenage boys. You had practically begged to meet anywhere else, their dormitory being the last place you wanted to end up. Coincidentally, every option you came up with seemed to be taken. Your dorm-mates were using your dorm for their own projects, and were firm on their stance of “no boys, especially not those ones.” The library had a suspiciously timed incident of smoke bombs exploding, and all the students had to vacate until it was aired out. It had Marauders written all over it. Your house-mates would rather die than have three Gryffindors in their common room, so you didn’t even suggest it. As a last resort, you tried to coax them into working in their common room, but, once again, the answer was no. The rest of their in-house friend group decided to work right in front of the fireplace. The girl who introduced herself as Marlene definitely had a glint in her eyes, as if she was in on it. You just couldn’t win.

Reluctantly, you followed them up the stairs to work in their dorm. The room was, oddly enough, exactly what you expected. The space that was tidy with stacks of books on the floor next to the bed had to belong to Remus. Fitting. James’ and Sirius’ beds seemed to blend together, the only telling factors being the Quidditch posters by James’ bed and the record player and band posters by Sirius’. Also fitting. You knew most of the bands on Sirius’ posters. Surprised, you shook your head slightly. You couldn’t have anything in common with these boys, could you? The fourth bed, which you learned belonged to Peter, one of the boys in the group holed up in the common room, was a mix of tidy and messy, with a half-played game of chess sitting on the blanket.

There were clothes strewn on the floor between James’ and Sirius’ beds, both of the boys scrambling to pick them up and throw them out of sight as you walked in. They looked at you like they hoped you hadn’t seen it. You had. Remus scoffed a chuckle, which you somewhat appreciated, but didn’t let it show.

Now here you were, perched awkwardly on the edge of Remus’ bed, the cleanest place in the room, with your arms crossed, as the boys arranged their notes across the floor. The Gryffindor dormitory felt strangely foreign to you, with its warm tones and cozy chaos. It was nothing like the pristine coldness of the Slytherin common room, where everything was sharp edges and muted colors. Here, the atmosphere was alive, buzzing with an energy you couldn’t entirely place—and didn’t trust.

“So,” Sirius began, lounging on a pillow in his usual carefree manner, “any brilliant ideas, gorgeous?”

“I have several,” you replied, not acknowledging the irksome pet name, “but I doubt you’d appreciate the brilliance.”

James smirked. “Why so cold, angel? We’re charming, aren’t we?”

You snorted. “You’re persistent. That’s not the same thing.”

Sirius grinned, leaning forward. “I bet we’ll grow on you.”

You ignored him, focusing instead on the pile of notes on the bed in front of you. That was, until Sirius got up and began rifling through a stack of records near his bed. You rolled your eyes.

This was supposed to be about the project.

At least, that’s what you told yourself when you agreed to meet them here instead of putting your foot down and insisting on the library or another neutral space, or perhaps even working together on another day entirely. But you weren't naive—you knew better. The Marauders had been relentless in their attempts to worm their way into your life, and you had been equally relentless in shutting them down.

“You know,” James said, glancing up from his notes with an infuriating grin, “it’s not every day we let a Slytherin into our sacred quarters.”

Sirius spoke over his shoulder as he searched through the records. “Even Regulus hasn’t seen it.” You glance at Remus as he tries to catch your attention.

He mouthed, “His brother.” to you. You roll your eyes and mouth back, “I know that. House-mates, remember?”

James responded to Sirius aloud, “...Right, yeah.” You narrowed your eyes slightly, knowing his response was suspicious, but not pushing further. None of your business.

“Oh, I’m honored,” you replied to James’ initial comment, deadpanned.

Remus shot James a look. “Don’t mind him. He’s been insufferable since he got that Outstanding in Charms.”

“Not insufferable,” James protested, recovering and tossing a quill at Remus. “Confident.”

“Arrogant.” You corrected without missing a beat.

James clutched his chest as if you’d wounded him. “You wound me, love.”

“No,” you said, inspecting your nails. “But I’m considering it.”

From the corner of the room, Sirius laughed, his voice rich and warm. “I like her. She’s got bite.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Black?,” you muttered, side-eyeing him as he turned around with a record in hand. You immediately kicked yourself mentally for saying something that could be misconstrued as flirting.

Sirius’ eyes lit up. “In fact I would, doll. You offering?” Sirius said, flashing you a grin. You rolled your eyes, your silence being response enough. He took the record out of its sleeve.

“What are you doing?” you asked, brow furrowing.

“Setting the mood,” he said with a wink, sliding the record onto the turntable. Moments later, the opening notes of a familiar song filled the room. The unmistakable opening notes of Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie graced your ears.

Your quill paused mid-sentence.

You didn’t mean to react, but the music stirred something in you—an instinctive recognition, a fondness you couldn’t quite mask. Maybe you could have something in common with them after all. Your lips twitched, just barely, and though you fought to remain impassive, your lips began to move slightly to mouth the words of the song. Anyone looking would probably just assume you were just talking to yourself to figure out your assignment. Unfortunately, you had no such luck.

Remus was watching you from his place on the floor, leaning against Sirius’ bed. A small smirk formed on his face as you continued reading a Potions book, still mouthing the words to the song. He scoffed a small chuckle and shook his head, not having expected you, of all people, to listen to Queen or Bowie.

The small noise caught Sirius’ attention and his eyes flicked to Remus. He followed his gaze to you, and he caught it immediately. His dark eyes lit up like fireworks. “Wait a minute.”

You looked at him sharply. “What?”

“You like Queen,” he said, his voice brimming with something close to awe.

“It’s just a song,” you replied, tone clipped, feigning indifference, but the words didn’t carry much weight.

James and Remus exchanged a glance, both clearly intrigued.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Sirius said, practically bounding over to you, his excitement spilling over. “This isn’t ‘just a song.’ This is Queen. This is brilliance. This is art. And you, my darling—” he pointed at you dramatically, “—you know it.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, Sirius flopped onto the bed beside you, far too close for comfort. Remus chided him for messing up his blanket, a scold he hadn’t extended to you when you sat down. You leaned away from Sirius slightly, but made no effort to actually move.

“Admit it,” he said, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “You’ve got good taste.”

Your lips twitched again, and this time you couldn’t quite stop the ghost of a smile from appearing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“It’s just a song,” you said stiffly, though your body language had betrayed you.

“No, no, this is monumental,” Sirius declared, rolling dramatically onto his side and throwing his arms in the air. “I knew you had taste!”

Remus took this as an opportunity to chime in. “Queen’s one of his favorite bands.”

“They’re the best band,” Sirius corrected. “And now I know you have some semblance of a soul.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t pull away when Sirius leaned closer, his energy almost contagious. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Black,” you said, but your lips twitched upward ever so slightly.

James, not one to miss an opportunity, tossed you another question. “Alright, love. What’s your favorite Queen song?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “I’m not playing your little games, Potter.”

“Fine.” he looked away for a moment, before turning back with a hopeful smile. “Queen or Bowie?”

Remus, ever the observant one, chimed in gently after a moment. “It’s alright, you know. You can like Queen and still pretend you don’t tolerate us.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. The music played on, filling the room with its familiar rhythm, and for the first time that evening, for the first time with them, you felt yourself softening—just a fraction.

You hesitated, eyes flickering to Sirius, whose expression was a mix of hope and anticipation. He was grinning like he’d just won the Quidditch Cup. You scoff in resignation. “...Both. But I’m partial to Queen.”

Sirius let out a triumphant laugh, throwing his arms into the air. “I fucking knew it! She’s got taste!”

“Congratulations,” you said dryly. “You’ve discovered that I enjoy good music. What a revelation.”

“It is,” Sirius insisted, still grinning. “You’ve officially earned a pass in my book.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A pass for what?”

“For being tolerable,” he said jokingly, as if it were obvious.

“Oh, how generous of you.”

Remus chuckled softly. “You’ll have to forgive him, dove. He doesn’t know how to behave like a normal person.”

“I can see that.” You snickered dryly, appreciating the semblance of alliance you seemed to have formed with Remus.

Sirius leaned back on his elbows, watching you with an expression that was almost smug. “See, gorgeous? You’ve got more in common with us than you think.”

“Now I wouldn’t go that far,” you shot back, though the edge in your voice was noticeably duller. Sirius looked back at you deadpanned, but that smirk seemed to be glued to his face.

“Fine,” you muttered. “I like Queen. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Sirius said, beaming.

For the first time, you didn’t feel entirely out of place with them.

James, sensing the shift, tossed you a chocolate frog from his nightstand. “You’ve somehow found common ground with Sirius. That means you’re officially one of us now.”

You caught it, unwrapping it slowly. You raised your brows at him. “One of you? A kind offer, but no.”

Sirius threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning like a madman. The contact was uncomfortable, but you made no effort to pull away completely. Remus chimed in this time. “Sirius is the most judgemental out of all of us. You get in with him? You passed.” He shrugged at you as if his statement was absolute.

James leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know, angel, we might just have to keep you around.”

You scoffed. “Please don’t.”

“Too late,” Sirius said, his grin practically splitting his face. “You’re one of us now, whether you like it or not.” He leaned towards you and placed a dramatic kiss on your cheek. This time, you leaned away, furrowing your brows at him, wiping your face with your hand.

“Watch yourself, Black. You want to keep those lips? Keep them off me.” You shot at him.

Sirius gave you the infuriatingly enticing smirk that seems to be consistently plastered to his face. “Whatever you say, doll. But soon enough, you’ll be begging for our lips on you,” He shot a wink at you.

You rolled your eyes in response, popping the chocolate frog into your mouth. You glance at the other two boys, who seem to agree with Sirius. “In your dreams, Black.”

Sirius got up from the bed, scurrying to his corner, “Oh, believe me, we see you plenty in our dreams, gorgeous.”

For the first time, you don’t have a response.

Before you could wallow in the feeling of being speechless, Sirius came back with a thick stack of records and tossed them down on the bed next to you, earning him another scold from Remus about getting floor germs on his bed. You chuckle and share a look with him, shaking your head at Sirius’ antics. Sirius began to shuffle through his albums, questioning you about every band he knew of, as he tried to find another similarity between you. James chimed in every so often, commenting on one of the few bands or songs he knew of, only to get brushed off by Sirius as he was awaiting your input. Remus looked on from the floor, periodically trying to continue to work on the project. After a while, all of your schoolwork layed forgotten on the floor. As the music played on and the boys pulled you into their banter, you found yourself relaxing—just a little. Maybe they weren’t as insufferable as you thought.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

────── ☾ ──────

[sunderwight]

Thinking about a situation where SQQ gets a look at Luo Binghe's package (post-Abyss but pre-Maigu Ridge, or in an AU where Maigu Ridge doesn't happen) through like, the outline of his pants or whatever (maybe Binghe took a wardrobe tip from Jareth of Labyrinth), and then got to thinking about how huge Luo Binghe's meat is, like in an actually non-sexual way this time just his brain gets onto a tangent about a bunch of scenes from PIDW where the descriptions varied wildly, and then he starts wondering about exactly what size it is, because to go by the novel's descriptions it's either bigger than average but not insane or there's another arm stuffed into that codpiece somehow. Surely it's closer to the former than the latter? SQQ doesn't have any other evidence that physical limitations in this world are that different from his own world, but then again, would it come up in any of his conversations if women in this world have sufficiently cavernous vaginas for damn near every virgin Bingge met to accommodate a dick that big? Does it at least make childbirth easier? He hasn't exactly polled anyone on it, so it could be the case. But what about the back door, so to speak? There were a few sex scenes that went in that direction, forbidden tunnel of love type stuff and it was all incredibly bad and cheesy, but of course, SQQ actually has a "back door" too and surely he would notice if it was possible to stick his own arm up it. Although it's also not as if he's tried, and as a peak lord with a fantasy metabolism he doesn't actually have to take a shit either, his body processes everything extremely efficiently and it's been years since... well anyway it's not like he's had occasion to investigate it much, now that he's thinking about it. Maybe he can? Not that this is relevant information to anything though and given the inconsistencies the probable limitations of the numerous people PIDW Binghe had sex with, his package, though prodigious, is probably not actually that big of a weapon. How could he even comfortably keep it contained otherwise...? Etc etc etc.

Meanwhile the entire time he's having this internal spiel, he's just... staring. At Luo Binghe's dick. Really blatantly. It doesn't even occur to him that he's doing something incriminating about his interests or possible attraction precisely because he's not, for once, getting flustered about it (much) but is in fact genuinely vexed by the mystery. This is not so much a case of imagining Luo Binghe's dick as wondering about fantasy physiology. So he's lost track of where his gaze has wandered.

The longer it goes on for though the more flustered Luo Binghe gets though. Like, should he say something? Is this a prelude to Shizun making a move? Is there... something wrong with it? Why is he staring so intently? Is Shizun aware that he has just been looking straight at Luo Binghe's dick for almost ten minutes now...? He should definitely say something, right? Maybe this is his chance! Or maybe he should wait and see what Shizun does next? Should he try a line? Something suave? Ask if he wants to see it! Shizun can absolutely see Binghe's dick if he wants to! No wait, but what if Shizun is planning on making a move and he ruins it by being impatient? He should wait and see where this is going.

...How long is it going to take, though...?

Luo Binghe's brain frazzles between trying to decide if he should make a move or prepare to be receptive towards one, or maybe check and make sure his dick hasn't turned into tentacle or something without him noticing, while Shen Qingqiu slooowly (very slowly) begins to realize that yes, he has been staring at Luo Binghe's dick while lost in thought for such a long time that now it's weird. It's definitely weird. He should look away now, at once, except now if he stops staring at Binghe's dick it's going to end whatever stalemate this is and he's probably going to have to explain why he was ogling it in the first place, and he definitely cannot explain anything, so he just keeps staring while furiously trying to think of a non-gay explanation for why he's now glaring intensely at Luo Binghe's crotch.

...He can't think of anything. Oh god. This is a disaster. Luo Binghe is going to kill him for being a perve!

(Good luck, Binghe.)

[teapot-of-tyrahn]

I humbly request an Esmp 1 Pearl (vs Xornoth maybe?)

Galaxy Duo ftw!

The Ruler of Gilded Helianthia had always loved to fight. Xornoth knew this well. The Farmer Queen had an unquenchable thirst for battle, a yearning for a challenge, a gallantry which had made her fearless and puerile when they'd first met. Even when it had sent ravagers, vexes, illusionists, strays, blazes… even when her Empire had begun to burn to the ground around her, rooftops ablaze and every crevice filled with craters, she had still treated it all as a game. As if his attack was nothing more than a sparring session, a brief skirmish, a squabble. Xe had thought her to be fatuous, at first, foolish for trying to provoke a demon which could fling her thousands of blocks into the air at the flick of a wrist into one-on-one combat, a reckless ruler with a death wish. He had thought her taunts had been nothing but ridiculing reviles —  “Ooh, baby zombie! The most threatening thing so far-", “Xornoth, can you come around more often? Like, I’m having a great time right now!” —  the likes of which had gotten under xir skin more than it wanted to admit… but that wasn't the case. She hadn't been deriding it: worse. She had been humouring them. She sincerely hadn't been taking him seriously. She hadn't been afraid. Not of death; not of xem, not of lava, heights or sorcery. She was fearless. All she cared about was having a fun fight. In some ways, Xornoth respected this. In others, however, he wanted to take advantage of it. Like xe had taken advantage of his other underlings' lust for power, it was hoping they could distort her adversarial nature into bloodlust for his own gain. It didn't seem like it would be a difficult stretch to turn her vigour into vindictiveness. Unfortunately, despite xir and Sausage's efforts, it had been for naught. The Moon's morality had been surprisingly unshakeable, her loyalty to her alliance impossible to subvert or suborn. It was a shame, really; it would have loved to have such a powerful Emperor in their arsenal, but alas, it hadn't been meant to be. The Sunflower Queen hadn't been entirely nugatory, however. The Mythland Arena Massacre truly had been a spectacle. The only thing he regretted about the event is that it had to be a ruse. Truly, it would have loved to fight her again, to test both of their mettle and mold. But he had bigger plans to attend to. Plans xe couldn't allow The Ruler of Smallholding to interrupt. And, so, it had to get her out of the way. They wouldn't kill her, though, no; after all she had done for it? That would be unjust. She deserved a reward for her assistance. And xe knew the perfect one. He'd give her exactly what she had wanted. The Ruler of Gilded Helianthia had always loved to play games. The Ruler of Gilded Helianthia had always loved to fight. And, so, it would send her to a play a game where she could fight to her hearts' content, where she could really be challenged. A game of a death; a game to the death. A dream come true for her… almost too literally. A dream she wouldn't know was true. Sweet dreams, Farmer Queen. Watch out for the boogeymen beneath your bed.

— — —  i can't be the only one INSANE about how xornoth was CANNONICALLY implied to be responsible for sending esmp1 pearl to last life / the life games ,,,,, that he trapped her in a coma, a sleep that lasted so long that when she woke up her kingdom filled with cobwebs ,,,,,, ANYWAY GALAXY DUO FTW !!!

[innocent-cat]

I like your headcanons. Can I be self-indulgent and ask for headcanons of married life with Soldier 76? (I'd like male!reader, but idk if the gender will even really come up much in this topic lol)

thanks<3 This is the last fic of the night. I've been trying to clear my asks lololol. The last one in there is vex vax and percy, so if thats not your's, i have politely rejected your idea. Sorry, i love you for asking anyway!!<3

Soldier 76 x Reader

Warnings - none

"Husband76", Soldier 76 x Reader

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my goshh

As a worker of overwatch, you were usually scheduled with him for missions when you two first met

When they realized you two worked well together, you were paired up VERY often

to the point where there was teasing towards the both of you

"You sure that's not your 'honey munchkin scurdel'?"

they would say anything to embarrass him its crazy

that implies that they totally knew he had heart eyes for you from the start

he didn't even tell them is the worst part

he just follows you around like a lost puppy

BUT enough of that

MARRIED life??

so so sweet.

yeah you guys are totally old working in an army

but the moments alone at home?

it makes an eternity seem like bliss

he really likes to hug you from behind and bury his face into the nook of your neck

so expect to feel his bristle beard a LOT

his voice is still totally dead, but the words that glide of that tongue? pure sugar.

"Are you okay, dear?"

"Hey."

"You always look amazing. Your beauty never left you from the day I first laid eyes on you."

"Did you need something?"

All of that was said with a smile on his face.

A pure, sappy, genuine smile

he literally smiles whenever he sees you

rizz76

you are his SUN

you go out, he goes out

At headquarters, the teasing died down, but the sound of the younger overwatch members cooing at you got 10x louder

"Aww it's 76 and 77 again! How are you two?"

just smile and wave

You two are definitely called relationship goals constantly

"I wish my boyfriend treated me like that."

(^said after Jack literally does anything romantically standard to you)

They all have low standards

(Save them)

He'd buy you anything you looked at.

Saw something in a window you pointed out?

whatever holiday is closest, he buys it for your gift.

even if it's just april fools.

"April fools!"

"Jack this isn't what you get someone for April fools."

it followed with a laughing fit between the two of you and you thanked him for whatever you pointed out

(he does it just to see you smile)

Sleeping in the same bed will always be the right kind of warm

summer or winter he is holding you

very closely

what if someone steals you in his sleep man??

If it's too hot he turns on the AC just to hold you

hes lowkey crazy for it

old age is getting to him

maybe both of you

Expect many dates

no matter how old the two of you are, he wont ever stop being romantic to you

if you guys ever get into an argument??

He is immediately working it out with you

"Love, what's upsetting you?"

Apologizes for whatever it is

and get this

HE CHANGES

HE CHANGES IT

he LISTENS bro

one time he asked you if he could pick you up

and you said yes

and he legit carried you around everywhere bridal style for a week

hes crazy strong

romantically strong

he'd die for you before he could even think twice

which is why the two of you WILL be together until the end of the world

holds your hand CONSTANTLY.

its like the fucker is glued to you

he has really rough hands

you made him start using lotion though

not as rough anymore!!!

thank god

oh my gosh he loves u sm bro

[sharpsuite]

MUNDANE MOMENTS DRABBLE PROMPTS Topic: Chishiya's comfy and can't help observing, as always. Except its sweet. For: @crue11

please enjoy this first little drabble of a mundane moment 💖

It's a change that Chishiya has a day off but Niragi still has work - at least for this morning as far as he knows. Chishiya doesn't particularly mind ; he's fine to let the other work and not bother him despite how he CLINGS to the man in his sleep. ( And HE DOES ; both consciously and unconsciously. There's been times where Chishiya's passed out early from work and Niragi joins him later; the blonde inevitably always ends up almost immediately tucking himself into Niragi's side even when he's still fast asleep. ) This morning though he practically drags himself from the warmth of the bed and makes himself comfortable on the couch in a nest of blankets. He blames the sun for how he drifts between moments of consciousness and dozing off while Niragi's typing fills the background sound.

He must have dozed off again because when his eyes flutter open, Niragi has his glasses on and is staring intently at something on the computer that Chishiya couldn't even FATHOM understanding. It's not his field of expertise and he's more than happy to leave that to Niragi - he asks questions just to watch Niragi's expression change and the PASSION and CONFIDENCE in his voice. The sight in front of him is a sight that Chishiya's seen plenty of times ; Niragi focused and lost in the world of technology. There's nothing about this particular instance that makes it stand out or UNIQUE from the usual times. Maybe that's part of the beauty of this moment. To find something special and beautiful in the mundane. Or maybe it's just the simple fact that Chishiya gets something like this at all. This strange, ABSURD change in his life that even he never could have predicted. All it took was one of the most vexing people he's met to change everything.

His eyes trail over Niragi's face ; watches his eyes dart about the screen and the cute glasses that are at odds with what his piercings suggest. Maybe it's not even the glasses themselves. Maybe it lies in the fact that Niragi LETS him see him like this. Maybe once lots of people did - but he can't imagine so with the man he'd met. But he likes the look on Niragi just as much as he loves the arrogant, maddening smirks. He likes how the sunlight falls on his hair and gently illuminates it, likes when his hair is half-pulled back just as much as when its loose and free. Everyone with eyes can see Niragi's attractive. It's not really THAT which captures Chishiya's interest or soft moment of admiration this morning. He likes getting to see Niragi work even when he doesn't understand what is happening on the screen. The you know what I mean? Niragi sometimes says when he's sharing some problem or example even though Chishiya absolutely does not. But he's happy to listen and does take interest in seeing Niragi's end results or his success over something no one else could manage. It maybe doesn't make sense to Chishiya, but it clearly matters to Niragi.

Chishiya tucks his cheek against one of the large fluffy pillows on the couch and draws the blanket closer around him, hiding a faint smile beneath the blanket covering his mouth. Niragi leans forward and Chishiya knows that means he's figured something out or at least has a theory and it's FASCINATING to watch Niragi's mind work and read the language he shares without saying a word. He's so focused Chishiya doubts he would even react if Chishiya said anything as it were anyways.

It's terrifying. Terrifying what Niragi causes in him, how he can fall for just the smallest gestures, that most of the time he knows exactly what Niragi's doing or what expression he's making even WITHOUT LOOKING. ( It's both flattering and infuriating the other man is just as skilled to be able to do the same with him. ) He shoves the thoughts away before he can dwell on it too long. He gathers up his blanket and moves to the kitchen to make his and Niragi's favorite drinks for the early morning. It doesn't take terribly long before Chishiya carefully carries Niragi's over and sets it on the desk. CLOSE TO BE SEEN, but not too close to be potentially knocked over or damage anything.

" Here. " His fingertips brush against Niragi's shoulder just enough to get his attention to the offering before he disappears back to the kitchen to get his own drink. He doesn't quite want to be caught admiring and being asked questions, so it's a momentary safety as he curls back up on the couch with his hot chocolate in hand. It's rich and sweet and just how he likes it. It's not like he has work. He could indulge in another minute or two of silent admiration. As long as he didn't get caught. ( Which would certainly end in his denial that might fool anyone else but wouldn't fool Niragi no matter how convincing. But that's what redirecting attention with a QUESTION was good for. )

[cyber-puppygirl]

season of the dawn is literally my favorite destiny 2 season of all time and it’s so fucked up that like basically all of its content is gone.

as a guardian you hear stories of legends, guardians whose power and resolve rival those of gods and are revered as such by humans and guardians alike. this is taken a bit further with Saint-XIV, who was one of the many guardians who fought at the twilight gap; a fallen siege on the last city of sol where dozens of guardians died their final deaths.

this point is even further proved with Saint in the curse of osiris dlc where you venture into the infinite forest, a vex simulator that they use to predict many futures, and find his final resting place inside. a burial place made for Saint by the vex; an unfeeling robot hivemind. what made them do that you might ask. he fought them endlessly for years until they found a way to counter his light specifically, strip him of it and ultimately, killed him.

on him however, you get the best weapon in the entire game ever: the perfect paradox. at first glance it just seems like a Saint-XIV themed shotgun, but when you read the associated lore tab is where everything for the season of dawn starts to get set up, 2(ish) years ahead of its release. it’s a note from Saint to you, personally. he loved hearing from you that the last city is alive and well and he loved to hear how much it’s changed, he talks more about that and a couple other things that he wouldn’t know due to being trapped in the infinite forest for so long. at the end of the note he then claims that the shotgun you gave him has served him well. that’s right the gun you picked up off of Saint is originally YOURS.

anyway fast forward two years and osiris is asking you to venture into the infinite forest again but with his sundial, a time machine made to be used exclusively inside the forest to stop the red legion from using it to change the course of the red war. but as you do that you find Saint ALIVE inside the forest, fighting. you meet with him and talk a bit, or well your ghost talks. and he tells Saint about the last city (he left earth to try and colonize mercury during the dark ages, after earth was overrun by fallen, not knowing the vex had arrived there first) and to let him know all he’s done isn’t in vain. and then, your ghost materializes the Perfect Paradox for Saint, and tells him “my guardian made this out of spare parts and Light and sheer will to aid you”. you wish him luck and then you are pulled out of the forest. you meet him a couple more times with the last time actually saving Saint-XIV, the greatest titan who ever lived. he tells you he is gonna stay inside the forest for bit longer, he’s not done tearing through the vex just yet. you get a cutscene where he says “since the day met you i swore i would make it my duty to follow your example. i’m still trying”.

being able to interact and talk with guardian legends like osiris and ikora or zavala, or even iron lord saladin is great these guys are very cool powerful guardians. but this is different, you changed fate like in the vault of glass, and saved a legend. and for that he idolizes you. you, the nameless guardian who never speaks. moments like these are why i play destiny, because in that moment i, just like anyone else, in that moment became legend.

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

Oooh, you’re doing prompts!!!!!!!! I’m feeling very drawn towards 9 for Phrack since I know you’re okay with modern AUs and I would love to see your take on this prompt, or maybe 10 as an alternative! Thank you! 💕

Of course! And thank you for indulging my love of Modern AUs. ❤️

Also, I'm always open to prompts, I just don't always have these lovely lists. It's kind of the only way I get anything written these days. 😂

Anyway enjoy!

#9: Taking pictures when the other’s not watching

-------

It starts with Phryne.

(Doesn't it always?)

She’s somehow spirited her way into the middle of his most recent crime scene, a lounge act where a magician’s assistant has found herself suddenly and unfortunately in an unplanned double act with herself.

She’d feel bad about sailing past the new crime scene photographer (a fresh-faced boy named Matty who reminds her so much of Hugh when they first met that she’s rather tempted to get a new assistant just to see if history repeats itself) except he has the utter temerity to call her ‘ma’am’ as he tries to stop her.

(She tries not to take too much joy in the way he flinches at her predatory smile after he does.)

When she tries to take a photo of the murder weapon, however, she is stopped by much sterner stuff.

(Even if he is not nearly so stern as when they first met.)

“No personal photos at the crime scene, Miss Fisher. I’m not sure why I have to remind you every time. It’s why we have an authorised photographer.”

“They’re not personal, Jack, it’s not as though I’m taking them of you.”

“All the same, phone away please.”

Phryne huffs and makes a big show of dropping her phone into her purse and waving her now empty hands at him in the snippiest manner possible.

“Happy?” she asks.

“Ecstatic,” he replies, so dry it should be served in stemware.

Her smile is even more predatory at that, but Jack never flinches.

Later, he can’t decide if he’s more surprised or impressed to find the photos on her phone all the same.

“How…?”

“It’s all in the hands, Jack.” She waves them at him again, less snippy, more salacious. “Magic is all about misdirection. Look at where I’m not and not where I am, and all that.” He raises an eyebrow, but does not otherwise comment.

“Prestidigitation,” she whispers cheekily, and he rolls his eyes.

“Look,” she adds, in that overly cheerful tone that always means trouble for him. “I even got a good one of you. I suppose I did take a personal photo after all.”

She shows him. It’s in profile, and she thinks he looks especially handsome.

He thinks he looks especially unauthorised.

“A lucky shot,” he mutters and he is an idiot for not realising before he does so that it will be like waving a darkroom red light in front of a bull.

And the worst part, the absolute most galling part, is he can’t figure out how she keeps doing it.

There are shots of him at every crime scene after. Some close up, some far away. Sometimes he’s doing something interesting. One time he was trying to remember his shopping list. It doesn’t matter, they all go in her book.

Oh she’s keeping a book now, didn’t she mention?

A photo album of his (her?) greatest hits. He grumps about it a few times, until she reveals, softly and in that unguarded manner she has right before she falls asleep, that she looks through it when he’s out of town and she’s missing him.

He doesn’t grump about it after that.

He does, however, start to try his own hand at clandestine photography.

Phryne thinks it’s adorable.

(But not adorable enough to let him succeed.)

She sees him, every time, and at the very last second hides behind a post or a constable or, one time, Jack himself. He’s not quite sure how she accomplished that one. It becomes a dance of sorts, between them, a waltz where they both know the steps but he is moving in 3/4 time and she is in duple metre.

She’s almost hoping he makes it, one of these days. She likes it when he surprises her, but she likes vexing him too much to make it easy.

It goes on for a while, but that’s ok, Phryne loves dancing.

She’s less keen about accompanying her aunt to Brisbane.

“Two weeks,” she laments, throwing her clothes in a suitcase. “And board meetings every single day.” She sighs. “Goodbye, fun, I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you,” he remarks, not looking up from the chair where he’s reading.

She smiles, sweetly at first, and then coyly.

“Too bad you never got any shots of me, Jack. You could look at the photos when you get lonely.”

“Oh,” he remarks casually, “I’ve got a whole book of them.” At her stunned expression, he adds, “didn’t I mention?”

Phryne abandons the packing.

“Show me,” she demands.

Graciously he pulls a photo album from his briefcase.

(If she wasn’t so shocked she’d have spared a moment to snort that it’s embossed with the words Our Precious Memories on the cover.) 

She’s not sure it’s so precious.

It’s full of her.

Specifically, photos of her at crime scenes going back weeks, months. How…

“Prestidigitation,” he whispers as his face breaks into a grin.

She looks at the photos again. Something is niggling, something not quite —

“You’re in some of these!” she shouts, and he shrugs, utterly unashamed. 

“Magic, or so I’ve heard, is all about misdirection. Look at where I’m not and not where I was.”

“But I can see where you are,” she insists, jabbing an elegant finger at one of the photos.

“True. But where I was, about a year ago, was writing young Matty’s letter of recommendation.”

The penny drops along with her jaw, which hangs open as she takes this information in. Just a little open, of course. A very ladylike amount, she would later insist. She supposes Matty isn’t quite so much like Hugh afterall. 

She is… impressed. She can admit it. Or she would if she wasn’t about to be very, very busy.

“Abracadabra,” he murmurs in her ear right before she makes all their clothes disappear.

Later, much later, she looks through the book again, smiling at all their precious memories.

“It’s going to be so much harder now,” she warns him. “Now that you’ve tipped your hand. Much, much harder.”

“Phryne,” he says, with so much warmth and playfulness in his voice she’d swoon if she was standing. “Never ever assume I only have one card up my sleeve.”

She just shrugs, noncommittally, the corner of her mouth quirking in time with her shoulder. It’s a bit soon, she knows, but possible. And she does so love it when he surprises her.

“Who said I was talking about the photographs?” she asks, too innocently to be believed. 

It takes a moment for him to cotton on, but when he does — a soft ‘ah’ escaping his lips before they find hers again — it’s pure magic. Not surprising, but she loves that too.

(Prestidigitation indeed.)

-------

OTP Moments Prompts ❤️

[alethiometry]

what's this aco himym fic huh!!

kate i don't know how much you know about ac odyssey from whatever the hell i or anyone else you follow has posted about the game in the last however long it's been since it came out, so i am very very sorry if none of this makes any goddamn sense.

OKAY FIRST OF ALL i need to say that i have literally never in my life watched a single episode of himym and i do not intend to and i know nothing about it except i'm aware that people have Opinions on how it ended. it has barely fuckall to do with this fic, except that i just cannot think of a fitting title.

the short summary is that this is a kassidas fic where for some reason (have yet to figure this out) brasidas ends up with custody of elpidios and tells him all about how he and kassandra met, how their relationship developed, and how they came to be where they are now (hence the filename).

the long summary is i got WAYYYYY too ambitious with this fic and it mutated from being like a cutesy little wish-fulfillment love story to a full-blown fix-it fic where i want to address most if not all of my most vexing plotholes in ac odyssey, ranging from plot points that make no sense, to character interactions or lack thereof that had zero closure, to a complete rewrite of the very bad no good comphet dlc. and although i hated how the game handled the forced romance between kassandra and natakas, i do think there is/want to see if i can find a way to make their relationship more complex and messy and interesting by removing the romance of it but just making him a more fleshed-out character. part of my worry is that the dlc is so reviled (with good reason) across the fandom that this premise is dead on arrival anyway and no one will like it, not even myself. but at the same time, i still want the endgame of this fic to be kassidas-focused, because they are my everything and to me there is no ac odyssey without them*, and so i have to figure out a way to write some kind of weird love/parental triangle between the three of them even though i fucking hate triangles**

i waver back and forth between the himym-ness of it being due to the fact that for whatever reason kassandra is no longer in elpidios' life (thus bringing it closer to official game canon), or just waving a gigantic middle finger to ubisoft and letting kassandra actually be a mother to her son whom she loves so so much and barely got to spend any time with, but she's understandably pretty tight-lipped about her past because she's aware of the heaps and heaps of generational trauma that's plagued her family and wants to break that cycle, so it's up to brasidas to spill the tea.

another layer of complexity/difficulty in writing all of this is that i imagine elpidios to be around 7 when the story starts, because that's the same age kass was when she lost her family, so then that age becomes sort of symbolic as a milestone. which means there's also the issue of not a whole lot of ac odyssey being appropriate for a kid of that age. like, graphic violence and dark themes aside... i can't really have it be like "yeah and after decapitating korinth's biggest meanest crime lord your mother flipped me over and pegged me six ways to [whatever the ancient greek equivalent of sunday is]" and just... yeah. i don't know. i still think about what i want to do with this fic often, but i think there's a very good reason why i have barely even opened it in almost 2 years.

*this made me giggle as i typed it out bc actual historical spartan general brasidas has like 15 minutes total of screentime in a 100+ hour game. but it's also not a joke because despite all that (and also getting fucking killed at the battle of amphipolis) he still had more chemistry with kassandra than any of the other like 15 actually-romanceable characters in the game.

**another tongue-in-cheek joke/double entendre because it's revealed in the game that pythagoras who did all that triangle math equation stuff is kassandra's biological father and an absentee, deadbeat one at that. fuck that guy fr

[umbralsound-xiv]

Kindling Embers.

I hadn't heard her stir, so much as make a sound, which had made me wonder if she was still there at all. I'd been back to the company house first thing in the morning, to see Sayuri and pick up a few ingredients to make something... Here's to hoping i can cook something edible. And if not... We have a rolanberry tart, at least.

Bexy Amalaryssia slowly approaches the partition, the signal of heeled boots heralding her arrival. "…Vex?" Bexy calls, quietly. She peers around the wooden panels, unsure if she was awake.

S'vexrha Tchuma's ears flicker at the sound, one eye peeking open only for the other to follow as her name is called. ".. Yep?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I… Wasn't sure if you were hungry. I brought something from the company house?" She tilts her head. "You're welcome to it."

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Well. I-.. didn't really eat before running away yesterday morning, so.." She squints, and peers down at herself - as if trying to judge her own hunger by staring at her stomach. ".. I-- probably should?" Her head raises and she offers an uncertain blink. ".. Company house. You and your.. friend, mentioned that yestersun, too.. What is it?" She pushes her palms into the floor and shoves herself up on her feet like normal, grimacing slightly at any pain that jabs her in the most recent injured areas.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Well, don't… Don't expect anything too special. Not in terms of the stew, anyway. I could hardly lug a pot of that through the Shroud, so settled on ingredients instead. It's not like i should be out hunting, wounded though i am. I -did- say i'd take it easy." Bexy sighs, offering a faint smile, and a beckoning, gloved hand. "The… Company? That's where i'm employed. Sayuri and Eir, too, as well as Neoma who you met, yestersun. Though Sayuri's capture was a wholly personal matter, on my end."

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Can't be worse than what I've lived on for the past fourteen cycles." Her lips tug into a thin line, following along at the beckon. Her head tilts, curiously. ".. Oh. I... see. Not dragging all of them into that, got it."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Precisely. We didn't know their numbers, only that there were… Many. Many more than in our company, for certain. I couldn't just let them take her, but fearing a retalition large enough to kill the lot of us, i worked alone. Mostly alone. I did have help from friends who had offered their aid away from the company." Bexy turns to ascend the stairs, then. "…I'm not the best at cooking… But i did bring rolanberry tart, for dessert!"

S'vexrha Tchuma: "… Up until recently, twohundred and twenty." Vex retorts, factually. Her eyes narrow into an automatic squint as they ascend the stairs, peering up at the windows for a moment before letting her gaze follow Bexy. ".. They think you did it mostly alone, other than the one they knew were with you." She wanders up to the bench, lowering herself down on it. ".. Probably better than me, I don't know how to. And.. nice. I.. think?"

Better for them to think i was alone. They know of Khive... Though i still don't know how. I should make time to speak with her soon. It's been some time since... That incident.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Up until recently, yes." She curls her lips into a smirk. "And i'll let them continue to believe that. If they come after me, i can handle that. Coming after those close to me…?" Bexy clicks her tongue, shaking her head as she dished out stew; carrots, popotoes, onions and chunks of antelope. She's even been kind enough to bring a few bread rolls, moving to set the food on the table in front of Vex, returning to the stove to ladle up her own helping. "…It's edible, but nothing compared to the chefs at the company. The tart is from Eir, i think. The rolanberries are arranged a little differently to how Auro'usk does it…"

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Either sounds like a horrible idea, if you ask me. Grym's hand, Z'quohn, thought so too." She turns around in her seat to peer down into the bowl, eyeing it almost curiously. ".. It's solid food, that's a good start."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…His hand?" Bexy asks, taking a bite of stew. "And if he thought it was such a bad idea, why did he let it happen? Unless he has no say?" Her brow furrows, then. "…They don't even give you -solid food-?"

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Yeah, people right below Grym in the ranks. Z'quohn and Ariq are his left and right hands, so to say." She reaches for the spoon given, squinting at it before casting a subtle look Bexy's way - and then sinks it into the bowl, correctly. ".. He was gone for most of it, came back a mere few suns before the escape." She slowly raises a spoonful of stew, balancing it. ".. Nope. Us who were forced to work for them got the same shit food the other captives got." She leans over the bowl to make it easier to shovel the food into her mouth, chewing at it before pausing, brows raising. ".. Oh."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Oh?" Bexy questions, taking disinterested mouthfuls of the meal. "…I did warn you it's not tremendous. Though better than what you're used to, if what you tell me is anything to go by…" Bexy trails, considering. "…Makes sense. Suppose i should be thankful he returned so late. People might have made better decisions, then. That would make it much more difficult for me."

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Not tremendous? This? This is fucking good." Vex shovels a new spoonful of stew into her mouth enthusiastically, quite clearly not lying in her opinion. ".. Not so sure. I wandered by Grym's office at a point when they were talking, first thing I heard was him refusing to release 'her', and I'm assuming that'd be Sayuri." She peers up at Bexy, tilting her head. "..And, fun fact. If you call her Sayuri in front of Grym, it'll piss him off." She smiles.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I gathered that from what brief altercations i had over the linkpearl with the bastard." She huffs, amusedly. "That's about the highest praise i've ever had for my cooking, i think." She muses, taking a breadroll to dip into the broth. "…You… Think they will try to take her again?"

S'vexrha Tchuma: "Not that it takes much to piss him off in the first place, really. Or I've just gotten that good at it." Vex flashes a grin, which soon fades as she tilts her head in throught. "Yes. Don't know when, but considering he was looking for her even now, when she was gone before -I- was taken by them.. Doubt he'll let go of it. Or her."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Then i'll keep my eyes open. Anyone who makes themselves a threat to her, i'll ensure meets the same fate as the rest." She takes a long, quiet sigh through her nose, mulling over some thought or another. "…I knew the idea was too much to hope for."

...I knew it was a long shot. I've met some single track minded people in my life, and know how obsessive they can become... I'll just have to cut them down if they come again. He will not take her from me a second time.

S'vexrha Tchuma: "I'm sure she'll help you with that, judging from the shit I've seen inside. Folks lost no matter what they did, head outside? Might die by you. Stay inside? Might get sent down and die by Sayuri's hands." Vex gave an amused grin at the memory. ".. Weren't many who did either task all too happily, and watching them scramble was amusing enough."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "And now we're both outside, all the more reason to fear coming after us. Hopefully even those with orders will shirk their duties, some. Fear is a dreadful thing… I don't need to tell you that. But if it keeps them away from us, all the better for it."

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Eh, I've grown kinda numb to it at this point." Her shoulders draw into a small shrug. "Grym. Ariq. Vairg. Any other fucker who used violence as a way to intimidate people.. Just ended up being fun to anger." Vex rocks from side to side a few times, before shovelling another spoonful of stew into her mouth. ".. Hopefully, whoever comes across you will decide they'd like to live another sun at the very least."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "They'll be either smart enough to survive, or stupid enough to die. Neither are of any consequence to me, so long as we're left alone." She finishes the rest of her stew; leaving the carrots for last, which she eats in one big spoonful with a wrinkle of her nose. "…So.. Grym is at the top. Ariq and… Z'quohn. Right and left hands." She considers, finishing the last of her bread. "Who is Vairg? I've heard the name. Sayuri doesn't seem to want to elaborate much on him. Ketenblaet… Q'kura. I know the former tormented her as a child. The latter… I don't know. But Sayuri seems to want him dead."

S'vexrha Tchuma: “Some of them have brains, I’m just not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing yet.” Vex finishes her stew and pushes the bowl away to fold her arms atop of the table, and ensure she doesn’t knock it over. “Grym, Ariq, Z’quohn.. Has a whole-ass council beneath that. Arnkel’s sister, Eanwin, is one of them.” She shifts on the spot for a moment, letting her features draw into a grimace. “Vairg? A Viera who relishes in bullying other Viera, he’s the one who nearly killed Eir, and Sayuri fought in the arena. Lost the fight but bit two of his fingers off.” Her fingers tap against the table, slowly. “He’s.. A Trusted, as they call them. So is Ketenblaet and Q’kura. Ketenblaet is one of Grym’s bloody -personal- trusted, which is why it’s so fucking weird that he helped us.. Q’kura is the person who thought capturing Eir was a good idea, and is the only one still alive out of the party who did.”

I should make a task of writing this all down, one sun. Getting Vex or Sayuri to help me. I wager even Mist would be curious to some of this information. ...They were over two hundred strong, once. Perhaps with enough pressure... ...One sun, perhaps.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Eanwin. The one who put your collar on you." Bexy confirms, seemingly making a mental note of it all. "…Vairg. Explains so much why Sayuri doesn't want to speak about him. Knowing that, i won't ask Eir about him, either…" Bexy rises to her feet, collecting the bowls to be set aside to clean, later. "…He must have an agenda of his own, if he helped. As for what, who can say." She turns her head to Vex, for a moment. "Rolanberry tart?"

S'vexrha Tchuma: "Yeah, probably the one who fucked with Sayuri's aether, too. She leads the healers but.. She's usually the one who fucks around with anything magic." She leans back to let Bexy retrieve the bowl, before leaning forwards once more. ".. Well, only explanation he gave me was that he was sick of shit, other than that.. Don't know. Aint exactly a secret among them that Ketenblaet and Grym goes -way- back." She turns her head to look in Bexy's direction, tilting her head slightly. "..Sure."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Hm. Not much of an explaination. It doesn't shed light on much. Knowing his friendship with Grym, even i would doubt any kind of betrayal." Two plates are taken, and two slices of tart; a quarter each, set on them, as Bexy returned to the table, a fork for each of them set in the middle. "…I suppose prying Eanwin out of the compound isn't exactly going to be the easiest thing to do…"

S'vexrha Tchuma: "Eanwin rarely leaves, not because she's a coward or anything.. Just has so much shit to do, constantly." Vex pauses, peering down at the tart before her -almost- suspiciously, a clear sign she's never really seen anything like it before - but she doesn't seem any less inclined to try it, as she leans over to grab one of the forks, which also gains a squinting stare. "… Why do you want to, though? Just to kill her?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Sayuri's aether is compromised. Eanwin broke it. I want her to fix it. But by the sounds of it, she's not exactly an option. Our medics are talented enough, and i am sure they could, with time… But Sayuri needs her ice to defend herself with as soon as possible."

I know they would find an answer eventually. If not Neoma, Adelle; they are the best healers i know. But as with then, when she was first taken, time is not of the essence. Sayuri needs to be able to defend herself as soon as possible. ...Not to mention the pain even the smallest fluctuation causes her.

S'vexrha Tchuma: "-- Shit, still?" Vex's brows furrow, head tilting. Her brows furrow, gaze lowering to the tart. ".. Someone out of her Trusted might know?" Her lips tug, gaze rising anew. "..Coincidentally, Q'kura is one of them."

Bexy Amalaryssia leans forward. "…Oh? Is that so…?" Her tone holds some lilting sort of malice, painted lips baring teeth that sink into a bite of the tart. "…Is he the kind keen on leaving his confines?"

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. He hauled me with him to investigate one of your killings, once." She pauses, head tilting. ".. He's a bit of a fucking coward, though."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Mm… Not the brave sort. Makes sense why he'd attack Eir. You say the rest from that altercation are dead? Sayuri mentioned something about an archer…"

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Keely and Hichort. Dead as fuck." Vex opted to finally sink the fork into the tart, prying a chunk from it. "Hichort was torn apart, quite literally, shortly after the entire.. Watching-Eir-kinda-die thing, boasted to someone about his part of the capture and the fucking idiot didn't realise she was being lead by someone else behind him. Keely she stole the knife of and stabbed in the leg and then the throat, then killed five others. Interesting thing to listen to."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Gods. I've seen Sayuri fight on a battlefield without the pangs of desperation harrying her. Witnessing his supposed demise and then being within arms reach of anyone who might have played a part in it…" Bexy makes a face, but shrugs. "They brought it on themselves. -When- she gets her aether back, they would be fools to try and take her again. And she will not leave Eir unguarded so easily, now…"

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Yeah. Only one she didn't get if they landed in her vicinity was Vairg, which is a fight they made a bloody spectacle out of. He has probably clawed his way to the top of her shit-list with all the bullshit he spouted during it." Vex grimaces, and finally raises the fork to her mouth to catch the tart chunk between her lips. Despite the ongoing topic, she pauses completely at the flavour - offering a surprised blink and stare. "… Fuck that's nice." She almost whispers, before coughing faintly, looking back up to Bexy. “I’d say every single one of those who are there willingly deserve all kinds of bullshit heading their way. Even without you at her side, from what I’ve seen and overheard, they’d probably struggle to recapture her by force. Might not be -impossible-, but.. They’d be some few fuckers less after it. And then even more when you got your hands on them.”

Bexy Amalaryssia offers a small grin at Vex's remark on the tart, intently listening to her words. "…He sounds enough of a bastard to draw her ire, for all he's done. Sayuri… She's a little like me, in that regard. It's far more an offense to hurt those we love, than it ever would be ourselves. If they come for her again, they will not take her without heavy losses, if they even manage it at all. I will not be far behind." She takes another forkful of tart, slowly settling her gaze on Vex. "I appreciate your readiness to share what you can. If there anything you think i should know, i'll be glad to listen. And… If there's anything you want to know, you need only ask."

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. He is." Vex grimaces. ".. D'khoreh, a Seeker there by force.. Had part in keeping Eir alive, after the entire display. Healed him a bit more than he was allowed, Vairg hauled him to Eir and tried to force him to hurt him." A small frown manages to take to Vex's expression as she talks. "..D'khoreh is.. soft, for the lack of a better word. The mere thought of hurting someone upsets him. I heard Vairg yelling at him and that's the main reason I learned Eir was still alive, which at the point wasn’t common knowledge. I got in his face and distracted him from hurting either.” She muttered, poking at the tart with her fork. “.. I can’t claim to have anyone I love, but if I did I’d like to imagine it’d be the same.” Her shoulders draw into another shrug, gaze lifting to meet Bexy’s. “They ruined my life, if there’s anything I can do to aid in fucking theirs over, I’ll happily do so - even if it’s just giving information.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…A barbarous bastard if ever there was one. I'd enjoy putting arrows in him if i didn't think i'd pull the satisfaction from Sayuri's hands." She finishes the last few crumbs of her tart, then. "It's appreciated…" Bexy trails, looking over Vex with some contemplation. "Yestersun, you said you had… Nowhere to go. When you are back on your feet… Where will you go?" Bexy rolls her shoulders. "Not that there's any rush. I quite enjoy your company, as a matter of fact. And the very least i can do is offer you somewhere comfortable to stay while you get your bearings."

S'vexrha Tchuma: "You're not the only one, he's one of the least liked people in the compound and that fucking says something." Vex snorts with amusement, shaking her head. She pauses at the question. "..I.. suppose I could try to.. find my family." Her ears flicker backwards, flattening a touch at her own suggestion. ".. Not that I know where to start looking, really.. I wasn't exactly conscious when they transported me." A hand raises and a finger flicks towards her own head, as if trying to indicate having been struck in it. “Other than that.. There really isn’t anywhere for me.” She shrugs. “.. I appreciate you letting me stay, though.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…If he's so despised, how does he still live? Surely there's enough horrible people that have considered offing eachother at some point there, yes?" A brow lifts, quizzically. "Unless they're prevented from harming him, like you." She slides aside her plate, listening as Vex spoke, giving a small nod as she recounted her abduction. "You can stay as long as you please. Anything to eat or drink; if you can find it, it's yours. The bed, too." She hesitates. "…Though i noticed… It hadn't been slept in…"

S'vexrha Tchuma: “.. Because sadly, he has the skill to back up his arrogance.” Vex huffs. “.. And Grym likes him. Someone has to, I fucking guess.” Her head shifts from side to side. “Offing others is apparently only a thing Grym is allowed to do, or give permission to.” She paused, glancing back at Bexy. “.. I’ve slept on the floor for fourteen cycles, and only a bed when I’ve been stuck in the infirmary, usually unconscious.” Her ears twitched, followed by a small shift of her shoulders. “It.. felt weird.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…We'll see how he fares at range. I hope he can run as fast as his mouth." A small frown given, then. "…There's a rug on the floor above you, if it's amenable? The floor. Gods… You deserve better, Vex."

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Oh -please- let me watch that." Vex grins. ".. I mean, sure. Should be fine." Another shrug. "Eh, all captives sleep on the floor. And misbehaving Distrusted." She gestures at herself.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Gladly, if he has the misfortune to cross me." She smirks, but it falls. "…At least sleep on a rug. Or use a pillow. A blanket? It feels… Wrong, to make you sleep on the floor, even if it's what you're used to. I dread to think how they've made you live…"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Or survive, should say. That certainly isn't living."

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Well, you're not -making- me.. But I can try." Vex shuffles back on the bench and tugs her legs up, folding them somewhat underneath her and resting her elbows on her knees. "Like a slave, then a slaver.. And then enslaved slaver." Her lips pull into a thin line. "I never joined them willingly, but there was a brief point where they simply tried to let me 'get used' to being marked. Realising that I was never going to, it was back to being treated like absolute shit." She rocks back and forth, humming quietly. “.. The Keeper and Midlander from yestersun. They.. were my tracker and fetcher. Whenever I tried to run away, they would hunt me down and haul me back.. Hence the Midlander has shot me so many times. He -tried- to be.. nicer, sometimes.. But he also accompanied Ariq when they first found me so I always held him equally as accountable for that sun.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…When they kiilled your sister. I… Remember you telling me." Her gaze averts, brow furrowing at the mere thought of it. "…I suppose Sayuri's plight struck a chord with you for more than one reason. I am glad you finally got to impart your own revenge… And i'm sorry for depriving you of the other half of it." Her head dips an ilm. "…I wager no matter where you end up, you will want to hunt and kill Ariq. Yes?"

...I intend to help her. I know... It isn't my fight. Not for the same reasons, but i feel the same obligation. Vex helped me. Now... I helped her. It should end there. But it doesn't. It won't. ...Perhaps it's because of her involvement with Sayuri, or because i don't feel like i've properly repaid my debt, i don't know. ...I'll talk to Sayuri about it.

S'vexrha Tchuma pauses, ears drooping - she nods. ".. Ariq did the blow. Or blows, fucker couldn't settle for one." Her expression sours, just a touch, a flicker of a flame curling over her shoulders before fading into nothingness. ".. I know what it's like to be Grym's punching bag, and I hated to see it happen to her, knowing she had already gone through it before.. And you know, enjoyed pissing off Grym by depriving him the one thing he wanted the most in this world. Despite the bloody thrashing he gave me immediately afterwards when it was confirmed they had gotten away.” She shrugs. “.. Eh, got to fuck up Gala’ra, good enough. Burwenna was a massive bitch but I’m not all too upset about not getting to kill her.” Her gaze settles atop of Bexy once more, tilting her head. “.. Yeah. That’s.. One kill I absolutely want.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Despite all the cruelty, you still have sympathy. It's admirable. Most would have gotten blind and bitter, very quickly." Quietly, she seems to mull something over, glancing aside. "…I know this isn't over. Not for you, not for Sayuri… And by extension, not for me, either. She… Made mention of wanting to come talk to you…"

Had i have lived Vex's life, i dread to think where i might be. Dead. A slaver? Bitter beyond all recognition?

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Well, I was a kid. Most of that time I was just.. scared. Then Grym decided my fate was to be a slaver, got marked, silenced.. given a weapon and the instruction to learn it. At some point I stopped being afraid, but wanted it all to end.. That's when I started living up to my name, just pissing them off at any point I could." A deeper exhale leaves her, one brow lofting. ".. I'm gonna be honest with you. I don't think it'll be over for Sayuri until Grym is dead and buried, or dumped in some ditch.” Her fingers slowly drum against her own leg. “.. Well, it’s not my house but.. She’s free to, if she wants.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…You wanted an escape. You didn't care much for how you found it…" A small sigh is exhaled through her nose. "…That cliff. You were serious about jumping, weren't you?"

S'vexrha Tchuma's head sinks into a nod. ".. Rather die than go back."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I'm glad you're not dead, Vex. There's a good many awful people in this world, and… I can't claim to be a good person, with all the blood i've spilled. But there are good people, surely."

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. You tore through a bunch of awful people to save your sister, how are you -not- a good person?" Vex lofts her brow. ".. Does the amount of blood spilled define if someone is a good or a bad person, rather than the reason behind it?" Her lips tug downwards. "Plenty of Grym's lot have done minimal damage to people and they're still wandering trash heaps."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I---…" She trails, glancing aside, brow knit. Vex's words keep her quiet for a long while, before she looks up, and back. "…I… I don't know. I've killed so many, Vex. And they're all bad people. Mostly. Even if just a little bit. I often tell myself i don't have another choice, but maybe i just never considered it…" She trails, catching herself and dismissing her own words with a waft of her hand. "…The slavers deserved it, each and every one. Suppose… I am a good person. To… Some people…"

A... Good person. People have told me before. That i am. Mostly i humor them and nod to save the arguement. I've killed hundreds. Some of them, i even enjoyed killing. ...I'm not a good person. ...Am i? Even if the people i killed surely deserved it... ... ...Am i truly closer to redemption than i first thought?

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Sometimes, they don't give you another choice. Even if you try to find one. I may not have known you particularly long, but -everyone- of the slavers you've killed -deserved- it. The only one who wouldn't have was the one woman you let go when she was running away from them." Vex's brows furrow. "Hells, you came back for -me-. A bad person would've just said 'fuck it' once they had what they wanted, but you didn’t. You returned, and have freed me from the Hell I’ve lived in practically my entire life."

Bexy Amalaryssia sits in the quiet. She doesn't have a response for that. Not a verbal one, in any case; her expression holding uncertainty, and an eventual nod. "…I'm a woman of my word. I don't break my promises. I don't lie to the people i care about. I would do unspeakable things for them, but…" Another sigh, cutting herself off. She opts to change the subject. "…Was there anything you wanted to know?"

S'vexrha Tchuma pauses, one ear flattening while the other flickers upright. "..I-.." Her brows furrow. ".. I.. am free to go outside, yes?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Of course. The door is always unlocked. The Karahli are outside, but mostly just going about their business, and keeping an eye on the house. No one will stop you should you wish to leave, and you will be welcome should you wish to return."

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. If I do go out.. When do I have to be back?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Whenever you want. Vex… I helped free you, but i don't control you. Just… Think of me as a…. Friend. If you want to."

S'vexrha Tchuma offered a slow blink, followed by a small nod. ".. Friend." She echoes. ".. I don't know how to be a friend." Her gaze lowers to the table, along with her previously perked ear. ".. I don't know how to do anything, really. Other than fight and set shit on fire, I guess."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Vex…" Bexy trails, then. "…How old are you?"

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. Eighteen." She pauses. "..Nineteen the last moon of this cycle."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…When i was your age, i knew how to do less. I knew how to survive. Kill if i needed to. I didn't know how to make friends, nor did i want any; and i trusted no-one. Being a friend is no single thing… I learned it with time. You will, too."

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. I rejected the last person I met who offered to be my friend. Knew he'd get hurt if Grym's bundle of fuckwits got wind of him, figured it was best to just.. not have any." She rocks slowly, exhaling a steady breath.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…That was then. We've seen what happens when 'Grym's bundle of fuckwits' gets a little too close to me, hm?" Her smile softens, though she glances away. "…Even if it's not friendship you want… We have the same goal. We can be allies, if nothing else."

S'vexrha Tchuma: "They don't get close to anything else afterwards unless it's the fucking ground." She snorts with amusement, letting her gaze lift up to Bexy anew. ".. I think.. having a friend would be.. nice." She pauses. ".. At least you know why I'll probably suck as one initially."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Well, you've gotten my sister and her fiance back from that bastard's clutches. We've fought together. Had lunch together, and a nice conversation. Even a sleepover, of sorts. You're doing better than you think." Bexy muses, lips curling in a faint smile.

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. If you say so, I'll believe it." Vex offers a weak smile.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…It'll come to you." Bexy agrees, moving to her feet. "…How do you feel about a walk? I know we… Sort of rushed in here, yestersun. I can at least show you the surroundings, and general directions?"

S'vexrha Tchuma: "… To be fair, we -were- bleeding." She flashes a small smile. ".. A walk would be nice. See something that isn't -desert-."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Were. We're not anymore." She grins. "There's a lot of nice places. Peaceful. And… It's safe enough, but you never know. Grab your scythe?"

S'vexrha Tchuma: ".. I saw enough trees to know if I used my fire I might start a forest fire, it'd be best to bring it." Vex unfurls her legs to let her feet drop to the floor before she stands up, and moves towards the stairs.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…In Karahli territory? …Absolutely." Bexy nods, awaiting her at the door, which she'd surely leave through when Vex rejoined her.

...A walk. Wounded though we were, i felt i could do with one, even to clear my head. I've a lot to think of, surely enough... But sometimes, such walks are all the better for company.

[itshoneys]

——Honey could never imagine having to do all the housework herself on top of everything else; she was glad her friend felt a similar way because her new place was ginormous and she would have a hell of a struggle taking care of it on her own, even with Ryan, especially after the twins’ birth. Honey wouldn’t even dare to give that possibility a thought; no, thanks. so, of course, she messaged Neva the phone numbers of her favorite agencies to work with, so her friend and her boyfriend could discuss and pick whoever worked best for them and their house’s needs. laughter fell from her lips as her friend spoke again. “do I even wanna know?” though, in fact, she was beginning to warm to him a little; even as Neva was nagging now because, whatever he had gone and done, Honey was certain her friend was right and she didn’t even need to have or know all the deets. if a man vexes you it’s their fault, period. “biased in a good way or a bad way?” another teasing tone, another laughter; arguments between a couple are natural, after all, and given Neva’s pregnancy and how her hormones must be going absolutely crazy, it is kind of long overdue, too —a miracle, really, her friend hadn’t mentioned of them arguing before. like, ever. and Honey was always happy for her best friend, of course, but she always wondered how is it possible; judging by her own relationships and the arguments she could have over, literally, anything sometimes. perhaps a healthier relationship means not arguing but communicating, and maybe she would get better at talking, herself. in a relationship, of course, the same way as she would in a friendship.

she listened to Neva’s response and nodded in understanding; she was right, certainly, she had a whole career at the MET, and had worked so hard to get where she was at, it would be a little foolish to give it all up for something uncertain; ephemeral, even, if it didn’t pan out as she planned for it to. “no, don’t stress about it now! it’s a long time till we actually start filming,” she reassured her friend, smiling softly at her. and her words weren’t empty, she meant it; and if Neva wanted her to bring it up again, she would ( but then again, she would be the first to know when she would be ready to start filming anyway; she was always the first to know anything ). “you take all the time you need, even after birth, and now we focus on getting prettier,” she put emphasis on the word, winking at her bestie, “before we go out to dinner!” which was something she had been looking forward to for such a long time now —spoil her friend a little, splurge, do some catch up; just stuff they used to do when both their schedules were easier to handle; or they could simply arrange a night out for drinks and dancing and fun.

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐀 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 keep the whole place all by herself or with Ryan organized. They'd need some staff. It had been too long since she lived in a big place, she was so used on living in her apartment that moving to a mansion was a bit weird to get used to it. But it was what they could find for their little family upcoming, and the amount of dogs that Ryan collects. ❛ Like I said, I do have a housekeeper in mind, but I would love to get the number of some agency because I will need more people, I suppose. ❜ She'd talk with Ryan later. She reckons that he might agree, he also works crazy nonstop shifts, besides both of them tried to set up their place, after moving in, upgrading things, renovations… And she is unable to do much, stuck at home with a lot of noise from 'construction' due to renovations.

❛ I really liked Ryan. So… ❜ As if it was any news. She always was crazy about him. She thought she could hide it better, in reality, she did not hide that well. ❛ I don't want to know about Ryan right now. If he steps at home I might murder him. He knows why. ❜ She had no idea what she was capable of doing. The only thing she knows is that he won't like when she blasts. He knows exactly why. His work hours shifts. And she knows once she'll be at home, she'll have dinner with her own father. Another dinner, another failed excuse as to why he wasn't around. She hadn't seen her father in person, since the day she punched Ryan in her new place.

Neva was thinking about how is going to be the godparents, although she is not exactly very religious, nor is Ryan, as far as she is aware. Her family is very small compared to Ry's. All of them are a bit distant from one another, except for Elias, the only family member she isn't estranged. Honey to her was someone so important to her, like a sister she never had. And she thought maybe the invitation would be great if she wanted to of course. No hard feelings if she did not accept. People don't like commitment, and she understands that.

❛ Yes, I do. ❜ She felt the pull and was a bit surprised by the embrace, and patting her back awkwardly, because she is not used to touches, except for Ryan at this point, but even he surprises her at times. ❛ I'm a bit biased to talk about Ry. But he isn't that bad. ❜ Once Honey explains to her, that it wasn't his fault for her dislike for him and she wants to 'move on', she is glad.

As she felt her arm being laced against hers, going to the salon, the news the other shared. She chuckled, wondering what kind of news is it… The invitation is touching. Neva was surprised she let out an ' oh ' escape from her mouth. ❛ If I wasn't pregnant, I would say straight fuck 'yes'. But I don't know how this motherhood thing is going to work for me. And I also, have a work. The MET. I had to take a maternity leave early, and I probably would've to back to as early as I could once the twins were born. I don't want to decline, but can I think of the proposal? Just, don't rely only on me, if you need to get it going ok? I won't be upset. It's business.❜ She hoped Honey wouldn't be upset, not that she was fully declining, Neva loves traveling, and drinks so this would be so perfect. But now she has a boyfriend and two babies on the way. She doesn't feel ready for motherhood, but she will try her best.

[archer-bishop]

When The Time Comes

A/n: Hi My Name's Sam and I'm kind of new to Tumblr so here's my first imagine I decided to make it Kara Danvers x reader and I'm also on Wattpad as Sam27Joe. Hope you like and tell if you want a part 2. And if you have any requests or ideas, please tell me. Anyways hope you like it...

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Summary: When Kara was young before the planet exploded she had a best friend, and over time she fell in love with this friend. One day they find out the were going to get married, and they admitted they loved each other. Is there still hope for the two lost lovers or can one kiss really be enough to speak for a lost lifetime?...

Your Name : Cor Chance Buchanan Borne (pronunciation (Born)

Nick name : Kahlian (pronunciation (Kah-li-an)(pronounce it like a Filipino)

+8 Months Before The Death of Krypton+

Your Pov.

Me and Kara were walking through the gardens only a few minutes away from the 'House Of El' one of the biggest houses on Krypton, known for being the most successful in their fields, the best military generals come the 'House of Zod', the best politicians come from the 'House of Vex' and of course the best and brightest minds on Krypton come from the the great 'House of El'.

I wasn't from any of the high houses I was from the 'House of Borne' it is known for holding the greatest musicians and healers on Krypton, we weren't a wealthy house... though we were happy and live simply by the farmlands. We were also very intelligent in our own right.

I don't know how, but I met Kara, Kara Zor El when my father was called to the 'House of El' to help with her sick father our houses have apparently been close friends for generations. I was about 7 and she was about 5 we were best friends ever since. I also taught her to fight... Well the basics at least.

And now I am 14 and she is 12 and we just found out that when the time comes we are to be bonded together (to be married) if would agree I said 'of course I would do it we have been beat friends for years and it would be better that some stranger" she looked at me in awe as she said "I would like nothing more and she's my best friend that I love oh so much than anyone else I can think of doing this with (taking my hands in hers)'

Now thinking of that moment as we walk through the various flowers in the field. She looks at me with a loving smile tugging her lips as I carry a basket of flowers and herbs, I put a blue flower behind her ear and swipe away a stray strand of hair from her face, cupping her cheek. I tell her "wait here I'll just drop these back at the house (kissing her cheek)" she puts her hand on my wrist and said "ok I'll wait here" I return a few minutes later with my royal blue leather trench coat on with my family's crest on the right shoulder then I hold my hand for Kar El... She seems to like it.

Before we left for the garden her father, Zor El pulled me away and told me 'look Chance I see as you as a daughter and I am happy you will be joining our family'

'thank you'

'I also wanted to give you this' he held a small box that once he opened, I knew exactly where he was going with this 'for the future, when you are ready... I'm giving you my permission' he continued

and her mom, Alura then said ' yes Chance you have are permission for the future (puts a hand on my shoulder) as long as you take care of her'

'thank you and I'll do anything for Kara I-I love her'I start to ahead some tears

Zor El said 'hey don't cry (wiping my tears) now go catch up to my daughter (he said patting my back)' I nod my head, put the ring box in my inner pocket and go...

+Time Skip+

I was getting late and cold out but I was fine I'm used to the cold being born and raised on the farmlands you get used to the cold and hot temperature. But Kara only had a loose white dress with her family crest on the front, she was shivering. So I take of my coat and put it on her shoulders it went down to her ankles since I was much taller than her, she just giggled (she is 5.2, you're 6 foot).

"Cor I-I... I love you"

I get on one knee and say " I love you too Kara Zor El" we continue to walk as happy as can be...

"So how does it feel nowing you'll be a Borne, miss Kar El" i said turning to her with a smirk

" You know what I think I like Kar Cor El a lot more" she says giving me a kiss on the cheek knowing she is the only one allowed to call me that...

+Narrator+

She and Kara have been spending a lot of time together since then. Chance taught Kara about her family history and how to make basic healing pastes. Kara taught her about her family and her plans on joining the science guild. Kahlian sang her a few songs she wrote (I didn't write any so pretend you wrote it). And the name Kahlian is something Kara came up with she said it was a combination of her mane Kara and Chance's father's name Lian.

+The Death of Krypton+

"No father... Where's Chance... She needs to come with me" she said through her sobs

"I'm sorry my daughter this pod can only fit one, we only have one hour left" Zor El said with tears going down his face, as Kara cried more

"KARA!" you ran into the room blood dripping from your forehead, your hands and face bruised and bloodied from running here as fast as you can through all the destruction to see the love of your life one last time...

So you ran... you ran to her... no matter how much your body ached from the rocks and concrete that fell onto you this was all worth it to hold her... In your arms... even if it's just for a little bit...

"Kahlian..." Came out as nothing more than a a whisper. "Please... I can't leave without you" scratching the back of your neck just like she used to...

You brought a bag with you filled with clothes of yours she loves... And a few rings and necklaces of yours she likes to but most importantly all of your songs and all of the pictures on the two of you stored in a krystal... you give to her. You take of your coat, jacket a belt because you knew she loved those too and threw it all in her pod... But you put you the coat her shoulders like you did... the first time you said I love you...

You take a deep breath and say

"Kara I've said all the other goodbyes I've ever needed to say"

"no"

"just listen-" she looks at you crying like you're the center of the universe, while the world is falling apart

"- I want to thank you for everything I had a great life, and I will always be thankful to Rao for the time it has given me... He gave me time to love you... To be happy, Thank you for showing me what it's like to fall for you Kar Cor El (she cries harder remembering she joked about that a few months ago)... I love you and hope that one day when you wake up to a house filled with beautiful memories. You will find someone who will make you as I did (you look down)... Even if I won't be there to see it, I hope you keep me in your heart and I hope you never forget me."

"Oh Kahlian" she said as you put your anchor necklace right where her mothers necklace is and the ring that you're wearing right where you would've hoped the engagement ring would be someday...

Then lean in to kiss her with the passion that you can... But in your mind this kiss is never going to say enough for how much you love her... But this is it your first and last kiss with your best friend, your anchor , with who was supposed to be your future wife...

You rest your forehead to hers holding her in your arms one last time"Goodbye Kara Zor El i will always love you... " you kiss her one last time... One last time...

You say as you carry her in your arms, her head to your chest , heartbeats in sync even when the world is dying all around you... You put her in the pod kiss her again on the jaw, on the cheek, on the forehead... Then on the lips. "Goodbye Cor Borne El I promise I will never forget you" she says accepting it and saying goodbye to love her life one... last... time...

+Present Day+

+Your Birthday Day+

+Narrator+

On this day Kara would write a letter to let out her feelings about everything to... To just feel connected to you in some way... I helped her cope with the loss she has been doing it since she got to earth, she still listens to your songs on this day or just on the days when she feel like the world is just too much... She still wears your old clothes especially because it's fits perfectly on her now but it's still a little loose though.

On this day Alex never understood what happened... Even though she was her sister she doesn't tell her everything especially the story of the great Cor Borne her best friend, her anchor, the love of her life, and the greatest hero in her life...

But one day while trying to bing Kara out of the phantom zone she found one of the letters... She knew it was wrong but she still read it. She saw what looked like... a confession of love for someone, so she knew she needed to ask Kara when she got back.

At the back Kara's head she still held hope for you after all these because to her if argo city survived... Why can't you...

But now it's been 6 months since she has been out of the phantom zone, 5 since telling the world she's supergirl and 4 since becoming editor in chief of CatCo Worldwide Media, she has a lot of ups in her life but that will compare to the thought of... having you back in her arms... even if it was just for a little bit longer...

A/n: I hope you liked it, though this came out longer than I thought. And I'm doing another part on this... Well thank you for reading and if you have any suggestions please tell me, I'm all ears. Well that's it thank you.

⚓🧭⚓

[from-a-reckless-writer]

Alex was vexed.

Alex was beyond vexed, actually. She should be on her way to the OB's clinic with her wife, right now. But instead, she's stuck in Lena Luthor's ivory tower tracking down stupid xenophobic goons relying on her little sister to bring her wife to an OB appointment on time. And to top it all off, she finds out said sister has been keeping shit from her! Okay, fine she's not really entirely mad about that. Kara has her own life and boundaries are healthy, she gets that. But today, it just seems like Kara keeping something from her is the big cosmic cherry atop Alex’s ice cream of a shitty day.

It’s been thirty minutes since her last message and Kara still hasn’t texted back. The way Alex's eyes widened when she read Kara’s wrong send, must’ve looked like when cartoon characters' eyes on TV bulge out in exaggerated shock.

She’s on the fiftieth “WHO IS IT? JUST TELL ME!!” message to Kara when Nia strolls in, humming, all cheery and dandy—not even an anti-alien arms dealer can get in the way of her delight with her new Dreamer suit, it seems. It makes Alex want to punch the cheeriness out of her. She tries to take a deep calming breath, that absolutely does not help at all.

Kelly hasn't replied to her either. She was itching to call her but felt like she'd be nagging more than helping. They did just get off the phone about an hour ago after all. Kelly repeatedly reassuring Alex that it's absolutely fine and yes, she understands and yes, she knows Kara will be picking her up and Alex, just calm down. Who can blame her though? This is their child they're talking about.

Alex tries to put her phone down and attempts to rein it in but Nia stops to address Alex's rigid posture with a wave of her hand.

“Hey, Alex— whoa, what’s with the whole grumpy face?”

“Look. At. This.”

The words are grinded through her teeth as Alex twitching hands hold out her phone for Nia to read.

Nia gasps.

“Oh! She’s seeing someone?!”

“Looks like it,” Alex says, slumping herself onto Lena’s chair.

“Wait—who? How did we not know?! Kara doesn’t know how to keep secrets!” Nia throws her hands in disbelief.

That was right! She doesn’t know how to keep secrets! (Except maybe for the 4 years she was lying to Lena, but that’s got to do with Luthor’s denial too somewhat so...doesn’t really count.)

But back on the situation at hand, Nia was right! This was the girl who tried to tape a drawing of a unicorn to their childhood bedroom, as pathetic attempt to cover up a fist-sized hole in the wall from Eliza. This was the one that Cat Grant cracked down after approximately 2.5 seconds of her debuting as Supergirl. How the fuck did she manage to keep something from Alex?

She sighs, “I thought so too. Kara owes me a gossip session.”

“Us,” Nia corrects, “She owes us a gossip session, ooh and maybe an expensive bottle of wine, too.”

Nia starts to pace in thought in front of her, “Who do you think it is though?”

“I don’t know," Alex mumbles, "Have you seen someone hovering around CatCo?”

Nia gives her a shake of her head.

“You think it’s Andrea?”

“Negative. I already asked her if it was Andrea.”

Nia stops pacing, puts a hand on her hip and the other under her chin, “Well, it can’t have been someone she only met recently, right? I mean- They’re already at the ‘I love you’ stage! It must be someone we already know.”

Well, Nia isn’t wrong but that can’t entirely be true either. Her sister is the kind of person to fall easily. She's seen it firsthand. This girl- guy? Person? Can be somebody she met yesterday at Noonan’s and Kara would totally claim that she’s in love with them. It really isn’t much of an impossibility, this was the person who wrote about “Soul Mates, Sparks and Serendipity” for CatCo’s Valentine’s issue two years ago, for God’s sake.

Alex scoffs, “Knowing Kara, she probably confessed her undying love six minutes into the 2nd date.”

Nia snorts, “True. Maybe it's—" Nia trails off then gasps.

"Do you think Lena knows who it is? She must, right?”

“I doubt. If she didn’t tell me then why would she tell Lena?”

Nia shrugs, “I dunno, she tells Lena everything.”

Alex narrows her eyes at that statement. She will not rise up to that bait, she will not.

“Kara, tells me everything."

"Well, apparently not."

Alex inhales deep, lets that one pass with a roll of her eyes. The conversation with Nia is a welcome distraction from the overwhelming urge to check her phone again for Kelly or better yet just call her throughout the entirety of the whole appointment.

"Where is Luthor anyways?”

She asks instead, brain trying to chant, Kelly will be fine. Kara will make sure she's fine. So her kid will be fine. Everything will be fine. And then you are going to interrogate Kara until she tells you who this new person is. Yes. Okay, okay. That sounds better.

“Oh, she said she’s goi-”

Nia is interrupted by the familiar click of heels.

“Aaaand here she is,” Nia drawls out as she whips around gesturing to Lena who comes into view.

“Hey, do you know who-”

“Miss Luthor!”

Nia doesn't get the question out; interrupted by Jess who comes in scurrying after her boss.

“Hold that thought,” Lena quickly mutters to Nia with a smile, before turning to face her assistant, “What is it, Jess?”

“Obsidian is requesting to move the private audience with you on Thurs— Friday. Which makes it an issue because you already agreed that the charity event be held on Friday. And then Mr. Arquete also said to tell you that he needs the proposal ASAP or else he’ll be withdrawing. And finally, R&D is also requesting another meeting later at 6. Something about the new interns?”

“Is that all?” Lena sighs out, rubbing her knuckles against her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Tell Andrea Rojas that I’ll kill her if she keeps pushing this meeting back. I’ll see her on Saturday. And fine, give Arquete the contract. His wife just divorced him, his threats are useless anyway. And then tell R&D I’ll be down after I finish with this mess."

This is one of the best things Alex admires about Lena, she’s the ruthless take-no-shit leader who calculates everything in a split second, even it took Alex a few months before getting the hang of the whole DEO director thing. But Lena seems to be a natural. She tunes out the rest of Lena’s conversation with Jess as she spins round and round in the chair.

“Do you think she’ll tell me if I ask?” Nia whispers, eyes not meeting Alex's, fingers flying through her phone already dialing Kara’s number.

“Can’t hurt to try,” Alex shrugs absentmindedly.

“Can’t believe she calls them ‘babe’, though,” Nia mutters bringing the phone to her ears.

“Can’t believe she didn’t tell me, Nia.”

There is a hierarchy of gossip when it comes to their circle. Alex at the top because, well, because she’s Alex— she knows everything. Then comes Kelly, because if you need a secret kept it’s Kelly you go to. Then you have Nia, because for some reason the youngest person on their team somehow has all the resources to help you. It was frightening at first to learn the long list of contacts Nia has on her phone, very essential to both being Dreamer and a CatCo journalist. And then you tell Lena, the newest addition who is just as efficient as Nia. Although, her ways are more intimidating and a lot more expensive than the former. And finally the last person, the one on the bottom tier, the absolute last person you tell the gossip to—emphasis on absolute—is Kara.

Because once Kara knows, the whole world knows. She’s as bad as Brainy. Actually no, even Brainy can keep a secret sometimes.

It’s a miracle that Kara has the rest of the world convinced she doesn’t moonlight as National City’s resident superhero. That, Alex thinks, is one of the most impressive things her sister has ever pulled.

Nia still has her phone to her ear when Lena finally turns to them.

“Nia, what were you—“ but then she immediately turns around again, calling out loudly, “Oh, wait Jess! Move the R&D meeting to 5 tomorrow. I have to sign off early today. I have dinner with Kara at 7.”

I have dinner with Kara at 7.

Alex’s ears hone in on what Lena just said. Realization dawning on her. Nia whips around to face Alex, eyes wide, jaw open, hand slowly lowering to terminate the call.

Alex was wearing the same expression.

A dinner with Kara.

Lena Luthor was having dinner with Kara.

At 7.

I’ll pick you up at 7. Love you, babe.

OF FUCKING COURSE!

Distantly, it registers to her that Jess has now left the office and Lena is speaking again.

“Right, so-”

Lena doesn't even get to finish because two people scream at her at the same time.

“YOU’RE BABE!!”

[mozindale]

(WARNING: Long post)

So, one of my favorite things about the Destiny Tumblr community is the fact that everyone has their own stories and headcannons for their own Guardians. One of the things I remember from early Tumblr times are the massive lists of character creation questions people would create for OCs for whatever fandom they were a part of. So I decided to put together a list of character questions for those who like building their Guardians persona!

These questions range from Destiny questions, generic character questions, and questions for world building(specifically for your Guardians). If you have more than one Guardian, just copy the list as may times you need!

Feel free to add more questions! But please make sure to add them to this original post, so that way it is easier for everyone to find all the questions in one place.

The questions are in no particular order, so it may seem a little scattered(sorry!). I'm currently writing this at 5:16am. Anyway...Have fun!!

Tumblr app is finally working right for once, so all the questions will be in the read more!

Guardians name:

Age:

Race:

Call signs/alias:

Pronouns:

Class:

Preferred subclass(es):

Ghost's name:

Their Vanguard:

Fireteam name:

Fireteam teammates:

Favorite legendary weapon:

Favorite exotic weapon:

Favorite exotic armor:

Favorite ornament armor set:

Favorite weapon ornament:

What stats do they focus on:

Are they offense, defence, or support:

Do they prefer being close, mid, or long range:

Do they lean more "Element of Surprise" or "Upfront and Aggressive":

Strikes, Gambit, or Crucible:

Who was their mentor(if they had one. If it is a character you created, tell us about them!):

Who are they mentoring(if they are. If it is a character you created, tell us about them!):

What ship do they have:

What is their Sparrow:

Favorite Ghost shell:

Favorite shader:

Favorite color:

Favorite food:

Favorite piece of Pre-Collapse tech(if they've seen any):

Favorite Pre-Collapse music(if they've heard any):

Favorite place in The Last City(if it's a place you created, give a little description!):

Favorite NPC(s):

Favorite patrol location:

5 things your Guardian likes(can be anything):

Least favorite food:

Least favorite shader:

Least favorite patrol location:

Least favorite Pre-Collapse tech(if they've seen any):

Least favorite NPC(s):

Least favorite weapon ornament:

Least favorite ornament armor set:

Least favorite legendary weapon:

Least favorite exotic weapon:

Least favorite exotic armor:

5 things your Guardian dislikes(this can be anything):

Your Guardian has to rest. What is their living space like:

Does your Guardian have any casual wear?(Y'all remember Polyvore? The website URSTYLE works very similar if that helps!):

What hobbies and/or skills does you Guardian have:

What would your Guardian's lore book be called:

Where was your Guardian reborn?(If you created the location, give us a little description!):

What were they wearing when they were reborn:

What was their reaction to being reborn:

What was their reaction to their first rez:

After being reborn, did they meet friendlies first or hostiles:

Who was the first other Guardian they met?(Same thing! If you made them, give a little description!):

Did your Guardian get reborn with, or find, any indication of their past life? If so what do they have/found:

How did your Guardian get their name(if they didn't rez with past life momentos):

Going back to your Guardian's lore book, what would be some some quotes or passages from their book:

Does your Guardian have a significant other:

Did your Guardian go explore first before going to The Last City? If so, where to:

What was their reaction to first seeing The Last City:

Is your Guardian a part of a clan:

Does your Guardian's clan have a back story? If so, what is it?(if you want to or able to share):

If your Guardian would have a quote as a flavor text for a weapon and/or piece of armor, what would they be:

If your Guardian has had any interactions with any civilians (The Last City/The Farm), Eliksni, Cabal, Vex, Hive, Taken, Scorn, Rouge Lightbearers, or Iron Lords/War Lords(if your Guardian is an Old Light) tell us about it!:

Does your Guardian have any unconventional allies or connections(By Vanguard standards):

How does your Guardian feel about themselves or others using Stasis:

Did they run The Last Wish raid? How did they react to seeing a live Ahamkara a.k.a Riven:

Did they run The Deep Stone Crypt raid? How did they react to the Crypt and seeing Exo Eliskni:

Is your Guardian from D1? How did they react to seeing Taniks alive once again:

Where did they go and what did they do during The Red War:

Here are some characters that are either polarizing or have created a strong enough mass emotion within the community. What opinion does your Guardian hold on each of them(These are only a handful of characters!)>>>

Osiris, First Warlock Vanguard, originally exiled:

Eris Morn, Bane of the Swarm:

Cayde-6, Sixth Hunter Vanguard:

Ikora Rey, Second Warlock Vanguard:

Commander Zavala, Second Titan Vanguard:

Saint-14, legendary Titan, First Titan Vanguard:

Lord Saladin, Iron Banner handler, One of the last remaining Iron Lords:

Lord Shaxx, Crucible handler, Hero of Twilight Gap, living megaphone:

The Crow, New Light, Ex-Enforcer to The Spider:

The Spider, The Shore's Only Law, founder of "House" Spider:

Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef, Master of Crows:

Mara Sov, Queen of the Reef, Queen of the Awoken, Ex-Kell of Wolves:

Variks, the Loyal, founder of House Judgement:

Mithrax, the Forsaken, Kell of Light, founder of House Light:

The Exo Stranger/Elizabeth "Elsie" Bray, Granddaughter of Clovis I and Sister to Ana Bray:

Eramis, of House Salvation, Kell of Darkness:

Empress Caiatl of the Cabal Imperial Empire:

Taniks the Scarred, the Perfected, the Abomination, the Shadow Thief:

The Darkness is fast approaching. How is your Guardian handling it:

And finally, does your Guardian have any advice for any New Lights:

[springbreezc]

"it's not like i planned this either. when i first met you, i wanted you as far away from me as possible." yet here they were, entangled together to the point where it was impossible to know where elijah ended and he began. cohabitating the same space. "but you kept popping up anyway, like you were obsessed with me from the start. you were so annoying." and the older man had gotten under his skin from the start, though not in the way that he was now. now, elijah was settled into the very foundation of minjae's being. he had taken root in his bloodstream. the younger man never wanted to be without him, though that prickle of irritation still itched along his skin when the other was purposely trying to vex minjae. it worked this time. elijah's jokes were rarely funny. a familiar scowl curled onto his face, reaching underneath elijah's dress shirt and pinching his nipples. "and you're still so annoying. i'm not a possession for two crime lords to negotiate the custody of. besides, you'd be waiting forever if you needed his blessing." noeul would never approve of their relationship. his right hand trailed along the other's stomach before pulling it back. fingers gripped at the rings on his necklace. "if i even told him that you proposed..." minjae shook his head. he couldn't tell his father. especially not with how unhinged he'd been since the decay of his own marriage. "he only called off the betrothal he'd arranged for me because i said i'd never marry."

"we can go look at the place tomorrow." elijah nodded slowly before a sigh escaped him at the press of lips to his throat. he didn't think anyone had ever cared for him the way minjae had. his father only cared for an heir apparent, something elijah had never delivered before his death. something he falsely promised his father on his deathbed. his relationship with his father was strange. he hated him with every fiber of his being and yet the man had dragged him out of the gutter when all elijah wanted to do was die. he was grateful he supposed that his father pulled him out so he could find minjae. "i made it to you." elijah agreed softly. "when i first saw you i never could have imagined we'd be here you were such a fucking pest." the older man grinned. laughter escaped at minjae's words, the press of his lips tickled against his palms. "i always expect the worst when it comes to you my love." he reassured. "you always deliver." and it was more then that. minjae gave elijah everything he could ever ask for. someone who didn't just roll over and agree with his many horrible ideas. someone who kept him in line and kept his head on straight so he can make good decisions. well, good enough decisions to further the betterment of his empire. "did you want me to ask your father for your hand in marriage?" elijah raised a brow slowly. "do i need his blessing?" and now that was just to be an asshole.

[saphirered]

Heyo! Saw you wanted some individual character requests! I'm a sucker for Grog, and there isn't enough out there for him, so I was wondering if you could do a Grog x Sorceress!reader where the reader doesn't think grog would have a reason to like her since she isn't a melee fighter. Thank you so much!

P.s. Your writing is amazing, and I always love reading your works! ❤️

Thank you for the request! I'm glad you like my writing and hope you enjoy this one! Turned out a bit longer than I intended but that means more content. Anyway, Enjoy! 😘

Seated on the stone balustrade feet dangling over the edge looking over the city in front of you you twiddle your thumbs. You needed a moment away from everyone to sort your mind on your own. There’s a solitude in the dark clouds looming above and the first drops of rain signalling an oncoming storm and it’s never failed you before. Even while there’s no one around, you can confide in such storms knowing your words will be heard but carried away upon the wind and drowned out by the rain and thunder. A good storm won’t judge or hold a grudge. It will simply accept and listen. So here you’ll stay speaking your worries into the abyss and hope for some clarity or ease of mind and heart.

Back inside Grog sits on one side of the table, Scanlan at the other. They hold their respective tankards at the ready as the gnome counts down. By the end of the countdown they swing back their drinks finishing them as fast as they can being cheered on by the rest of Vox Machina and other witnesses to this drinking game. Grog’s determined to win this. While he’s pretty sure his tankard is actually a bucket with a handle, it’s more to scale compared to the gnome’s. Ale spills over the sides of Scanlan’s drink but Grog keeps it neat. No wasting ale after all.

With one last big chug Grog finishes the drink, slams it down on the table roaring in victory as the table shakes beneath his hit. Scanlan puts the remainder of his drink down on the table wiping his face disappointed. Grog looks around the crowd. Some are happy celebrating with him, others pass over money to the happy people for paying up on whatever amount they lost in their bets. How could they even consider Scanlan would win. He’s the best of the best after all and no one can out drink the all mighty Grog. He doesn’t spot you among the crowd and the victory doesn’t feel as sweet anymore. He really hoped you could have seen this one. Where had you gone?

Before Grog can get up and go find you he’s given a refill and the next challenger approaches. New bets are placed, Vex massages his shoulders giving him a pep talk and noting how he’s been making her a lot of money so better keep it up. He doesn’t want to disappoint his friends. One more game. Then he’ll go find you wherever you went.

The next game comes along, and another, and another but he’s done. No more games. When another challenger approaches and the game starts he doesn’t pick up the tankard and pushes away from the table. People ask him what the hell he’s doing but he ignores them. They’ve kept him long enough so he just up and walks before they can stop him. Grog leaves the room but Pike follows behind him worried for her buddy. He never refuses a good ale or a challenge, let alone the two combined.

“Grog? Grog, wait up!” Pike rushes after him leaving the banquet hall behind. Determined Grog still keeps walking but slows down his pace enough to let Pike catch up with him.

“Where are you going? There’s still plenty of ale to be drunk!” Pike reaches for the goliath’s hand to pull him to a stop. He does and turns to face Pike.

“I think I’ve had enough.” Grog says and Pike gasps. Never, never does Grog think he’s had enough to drink. Something must be wrong with him. Is he ill? Does he have a fever? Did someone poison her buddy’s drink? She might go on a war path if someone did and ruined his fun! But Grog seems okay. Physically that is. He’s fine.

“Do you know where she went?” Grog asks, maybe Pike can help him find you and maybe she can talk to you why you left. He doesn’t think you’d want to talk to him about that kind of stuff and while he’d consider himself a good listener, if something’s really up Pike always knows what to do. She can help.

“Who?”

“The pretty sorceress.” Grog states as a matter of fact and it is. Anyone who dares say otherwise clearly need some of those glass thingies Percy keeps on his nose and make him look smart.

“Oh, I don’t know Grog. She left to go get some fresh air.” Pike searches her mind to see where you might have gone. There’s a few places that come to mind but it’s all narrowed down to just the one when thunder rumbles through the sky. She knows exactly where you went and by the looks of it so does Grog.

Grog knows there’s only one place you really love to watch a storm unfold. You’ve told him before and you’ve even watched some storms together there. He shares a look with Pike and picks up his step going where he knows you’ll be, still dragging pike behind. When she doesn’t move fast enough he swings her up on his shoulders, running up the steps as far as they’ll take him, dodging a torch and pushing aside a guard here and there.

Then around the corner he sees you. Feet dangling over the edge, a single push away from what could possibly be a death drop, hand outstretched catching the rain with a sad smile on your face. You’re absolutely gorgeous. More alluring than anyone ever could. If he could paint, Grog would make sure this moment would be captured for eternity just so he would never forget. Maybe he can get some money from Vex to hire a painter? If Scanlan did it, why shouldn’t he?

You’re seated alone at the top of the tower. Lightning flashes through the clouds, sometimes branching down to strike the ground be it mountain or forest, you’re in a valley of safety surrounded by the storm. The drops of rain hit your outstretched arm extended beyond the cover of the overhanging. Cold as they are to the touch you watch them glide around your arm with movement until they too, continue their descend.

“…Sometimes I wish I would just have the courage but I don’t.” You speak into the skies. A burst of lightning strikes in the mountains, the sound echoing and even this high up you can feel the slight tremor of the ground. You know a storm is no sentient being but you read it like a reply no less and continue.

“I’m not a fighter. I don’t know how to wield a sword or an axe. I can barely lift one. We have such vastly different lives. Grog’s got no reason to like me in any way.” Thunder strikes again you smile briefly. You’ve come to terms you’ll always like Grog and your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. The only reason you’re even spending time together in the first place is because you’re both involved with Vox Machina in one way or another. You’ve got hardly anything in common so if you hadn’t met through them Grog probably wouldn’t even have thought about you twice.

That may sound sad and you’re thankful for getting to know him but Grog has his own life and interests so why should he bother indulging you in yours. He’s already not a big fan of magic and you won’t bother attempting to teach him. It’s not like it’s any interesting stuff and he’d probably be bored out of his mind the entire time. Then again, the theoretics of magic might just not be your strong suit either. It’s more of a natural born gift.

Grog gets this weird feeling in his chest as if he’s been hit by something and it’s being twisted. Kind of like when he got shot by an arrow and Pike had to remove it. It’s not a good feeling. Checking for injury just to make sure he’s fine. It’s clear to him he feels this on the inside; his heart bleeds a little for you. You shouldn’t think that way. He likes you. He likes you a lot actually so you couldn’t be more wrong. Pike nudges him to set her down. He does as they remain around the corner, leaving you unaware of their presence.

“Go talk to her.” Pike whispers and Grog panics for a brief second. How is he even supposed to do this? What is he supposed to say? He doesn’t know how this psychology stuff works. That’s what Pike’s for. If people feel sad they often come to her, talk about their worries and problems and then they feel better. How’s he supposed to do that? He’s not Pike.

“She needs you, Grog. I know you like her and she needs you. Go talk to her.” Pike nudges him on into your direction. The goliath isn’t physically moved by her effort but he does move. If Pike says you need him, if you really need him then he’ll be there. Looking over his shoulder one last time to ask Pike for some advise she’s already half way down the stairs leaving you with him. Grog thinks hard for a moment but thinking isn’t his strong suit either so he’ll do what he always does; face the problem head on.

A throat clears behind you and you almost slip from the fright it gave you. A heavy step rushes forward and an arm wraps around your waist pulling you back before you can fall. You’d have spells to save you in case you did fall but you’d rather not and are grateful for your valiant saviour. The bare arm wrapped around your waist is covered in tattoos, markings and scars and engulfs the majority of your middle. It doesn’t take a fool to know this arm belongs to Grog Strongjaw himself.

Flustered you allow the goliath to pull you back onto solid ground and off the balustrade entirely before he lets go of you, making sure you’re right on your feet. How much of your conversation with the skies did he hear? Did he hear anything at all? Grog steps back and stares at his boots. He doesn’t only appear to be more embarrassed than you feel but also apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Please don’t fall again and please don’t be angry at me.” Grog closes his eyes tightly afraid you might be mad at him as he was the cause of you almost experiencing a death drop. You’re basically gods but if we’ve learned anything from Keyleth; that doesn’t save you from a splat.

You step forward grab one of his hands in yours drawing his attention. With your index finger you tilt his chin up just enough so he’s looking at you and not over you. These gestures are enough for Grog to open his eyes. When there’s no look of anger on your face the tension in his body falls away just slightly. There’s still some rigidness from nerves but he’s closer to usual Grog.

“Chin up, big guy. You saved me too. I’m not mad.” You smile and the smile is returned. The air is still somewhat awkward so you decided you best get this over with and clear it up.

“How much did you hear?” You ask. The blush rushing to Grog’s cheeks and frantic glancing around to make sure no one else is here to witness it tells you he heard enough.

With a deep sigh you step back to the balustrade sitting down upon it once more but now to face Grog instead of the sky, your hair blowing lightly in the breeze, the rain and occasional illuminated sky behind you leave him staring yet again forgetting your question. He’s just captivated but you calling his name snaps him out of it. Saved it. Still got it. As long as he doesn’t turn to ‘drunk Keyleth’ levels he’ll consider it a win.

“I-uhhhh…. Why don’t you think I like you?” Grog twiddles his thumbs rocking back and forth from his tiptoes to his heels in anticipation of your answer. He knows he heard you tell the sky but he wants to be sure because if he gave you any reason to believe he didn’t like you, he did do something wrong. He’ll pick you over any of those other fools down stairs. He might just even pick you over the best ale. He’d already picked you over the ale he’d been offered. If that isn’t testament to his fondness of you, then what is?

“Ah, so you did hear that. I just- I think-. Ugh, why is this so hard?” You try to express your reasons but words are difficult and feelings even more so to describe yet still you try. Grog waits patiently either way.

“Do you think we would have been friends were it not for our lives being tied together as they are now?” You ask the dreaded question. You don’t even know if you really want the answer afraid that it may break any semblance of hope you had somewhere in your mind. Grog’s brow furrows, deep in thought but mostly confusion.

“Of course we would be. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Because I’m not like you. I’m not a fighter. I stay back with my spells and incantations while you run in axe swinging taking down anyone in your path. I read while you train. I sit around in my tower watching the skies while you go out and drink the town dry looking for a fight to enjoy. I could never do what you do and I do not dare to assume you’d have any interest in doing what I do.” The thoughts and feelings find words. A tension lifts from your chest like a breath you didn’t know you were holding just by speaking your mind to the goliath in question.

Grog knows damn well you’re not a fighter in the traditional sense. No steel or arrows for you but that does not mean you’re not a fighter in your own right. If he’s learned anything a fighter comes in many shapes and forms and you fit the description perfectly. You’ve shown determination and strength, courage against all odds and immense skill. You are a fighter.

“When I run into danger kicking ass who’s had my back every time?” Grog asks. There’s a harshness and authority in his voice indicating he’s leading somewhere and you better answer.

“We all have-“ Grog cuts you off.

“No. You have had my back every time.” He corrects. “Who comes watch me train, throwing spells to keep me on my toes? Who does it while reading her books completing not one but two tasks at the same time?”

“I do.” You admit.

“And who helps me kick ass in bar fights? Who cheers me on or joins me in any gamble or drinking game? Who is the best drinking buddy? You are. Now, who spends time with you watching storms whenever they occur up here in the tower or anywhere else?”

“You… do…” Grog’s right.

“I like to spend time with you because I like you. I don’t care you don’t swing an axe. That firestorm you do works just the same and looks way more badass. I’m not the smartest but I know two of the same are not always useful and can be too much. What are you going to do with two when you only need one. You need difference so they compitry- complitarity- colmpli-“ Grog struggles with that word. He’s heard Percy use it in a similar context but why is it such a difficult word to recall. He still tries and just hopes you’ll get what he’s trying to say.

“Complimentary?” You ask. You fear Grog might get himself a migraine if he tries any harder. You still don’t think that’s the correct use of the word but you get it. He’s trying to lift your spirits and it’s working.

“That one. Yes. Complimentary. I don’t just like you, I love you for who you are. You’re special and being different makes you special.” Grog admits he tries to fight the heat rising to his cheeks from admitting what he did but when he sees your smile grow, that’s enough to push his pride aside and let it be. Maybe he can do this thing Pike usually does after all? Maybe not unless it’s you. When he tells you he loves you he means it. When he has to say it to the likes of Vax he’d rather eat his own boots for lunch.

You gesture with your hand and beckon the goliath over to come closer. You rise to stand on the edge of the balustrade and wrap your arms around Grog’s neck holding him close. You feel his arms wrap around you in turn and pull you closer to where your feet barely touch the stone.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” You pull back to look Grog in the eyes as he still holds onto you and take his cheeks between your hands giving him a quick kiss. Grog’s eyes light up and lifts you up higher offering you a kiss of his own. Sweet and short and filled with glee. He sets you back down on your feet but doesn’t let go of you yet.

“Do you want to go back downstairs? Last I checked there was a drinking game going on? Should we show them what we’re made off?” You grin and the proud look on Grog’s face tells you enough to know exactly what you’re talking about.

“Let me tell you the tale of my grand victories-“ Grog starts as he begins leading you back down the stairs, arm wrapped around your shoulders pulling you into his side as you walk.