#sorry for the gross tags it's just to be thorough or something I have no idea how to tag

[museenkuss]

Thank you for your nonjudgmental and thorough response.

I guess you can say I started reading that stuff last summer, unplanned. I was looking thru some tags and I stumbled upon a Rey/Ben solo one. Just clicked and read it without even realizing what I was getting into.

And after I saw the tags, I was scared tbh. I felt gross but it only made me curious to know why a big chunk of authors were writing this trope. And even more people reading it. So I got into it.

After awhile it became cathartic. I read it not because I found sexual pleasure in it, but I could see my naive self as a teenager in these characters. I was sexually assaulted a lot by strangers and related men. Till the point that I didn’t even physically react after awhile. This was me growing up in a 3rd world country. Consent was an alien concept and still is.

So now my head normalizes all the dark, gore and taboo topics. For me I feel freer everytime I read some fucked up shit. But I’d KILL someone if they went after someone young IRL. I’d protect them with my life. I don’t okay that shit IRL.

I just get lost in the fictional world. And I know it’s bad, trying to get outside that mental state but whenever I read fluffy stuff I don’t find enjoyment in it.

Sorry this got a lot. And I hope it doesn’t weird you out. I just felt like sharing it with you.

Thank you for sharing! I'm incredibly sorry you've had these experiences, that's beyond horrible. My heart goes out to you and I hope you're at a safe place where you can heal and grow.

In general - but especially with this context - I just need to say again that reading dark stories (or engaging with dark topics in fiction in general) doesn't make you a bad person. Fluffy stories aren't for everyone. There's a little webcomic that came to mind that you might've come across on tumblr already with the caption "different stories resonate with different people". Maybe it's a little more focused on the writer, but it's still very relevant here I think. To me, it really summarised the whole question of "why do you read/write stuff like that????" - Because sometimes, it helps.

That's why it made me sad when you said you "know it's bad", because really, reading those stories isn't a bad thing. You're reading something, that's all. That's not hurting anyone. I know I keep repeating myself but I know we can feel shame or guilt about things we engage with or have an interest in and I don't want you to feel that way. It seems that you found yourself reading something that resonated with you based on your experiences. That doesn't make you a bad person.

Also, you're not alone in this. Finding certain tags and being shocked, intrigued, curious or scared, and then doing research, reading some more, reading a lot more - it's not uncommon at all. It happened to me, too. Sometimes, I look back at stories I was super invested in and liked a lot and am surprised at how dark they are. But then I think that at the time, they helped me in some way. I read them for a reason, maybe I needed to read them. I don't feel guilty for that. Maybe in the future I'll look back at stuff I'm reading right now and will be equally shocked, but right now that's what I want to read for one reason or another.

If you start to notice that it's actively making you miserable, I'd advise you to switch gears for a while because sometimes, we can be stuck in a downward spiral and (intentionally, maybe) make ourselves miserable. I've been there before and found myself binge watching south park (of all things) because it made me feel horrible and I was sad and stressed. In that case, I had to tell myself at some point "this isn't helping me, I just end up feeling worse about myself, also I'm procrastinating doing things I have to do or enjoy doing by doing something I don't enjoy." - if that sounds familiar, maybe try stepping away. In either case, be kind with yourself.

This got SO long again, but I hope it was still a little helpful. Again, I'm sending a lot of love!

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 4/6

Just look at this cover art by @cocohook38 !!!!! Isn’t it amazing? I just can’t stop staring at it. She is so talented and spent so much time working on this, please head over to her blog and give her some love. 

This chapter is sort of a bridge chapter (no pun intended) where we begin to discover connections between all the characters. Belle especially is tied to Emma in a surprising way. 

Massive thanks again to my beta @demisexualemmaswan​ and everyone in the @cssns​ !

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @bethacaciakay @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @spartanguard @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @ohmakemeahercules @carpedzem @branlovestowrite @superchocovian@hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @itsfabianadocarmo @lassluna @distant-rose @courtorderedcake @winterbythesea @thesschesthair @killian-whump @thisonesatellite @batana54 @it-meant-something @xsajx @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling​

Chapter Four: Red

“Neal Gold,” Belle said, her voice trembling with excitement, “no wonder it got covered up.”

Belle struggled with an ancient tome on the top shelf in the library’s genealogy room, and Killian rushed to help her. When they set it atop the metal desk nearby, a cloud of dust billowed up. The genealogy room was hidden away in the basement too. 

“I still can’t believe Graham went to the bridge,” Belle continued. He’d never seen her so giddy with excitement. “This will show everyone Killian! You aren’t crazy!”

Killian nodded weakly. He knew it was true, and he knew that Graham getting Neal’s last name from Emma was a huge break for them, but he was starting to worry. He wanted to help Emma by solving her murder, but he also didn’t want to lose her. Didn’t ghosts linger because they had unfinished business? If he, Belle, and Graham, took care of Emma’s unfinished business, then would she . . . what? Move on to paradise? Cease to exist?

“Killy, did you hear what I said?” 

He shook the thoughts from his head and focused on Belle who stood over the huge book, her finger pointing to its binding. 

“Um, sorry. What did you say?”

“I tried to look up Swan, Emma, but the entire S section is missing.”

Belle’s fingers ran along the torn edges of several pages. Killian ran his hand wearily down his face. 

“Of course it is. So no birth certificate there either.”

“Wait a minute!” Belle exclaimed. “We know she died in 1894, and we know she was sixteen years old.”

“Which means she was born in 1878. We figured that out already. But the birth certificates from that entire year are also missing, remember?”

Belle nodded. “Yes, yes, the Gold family had money and power and were very thorough, but they may not have thought about baby announcements.”

Killian grinned. “Parents put baby announcements in the newspaper! Belle, you’re a genius!”

They ran down the short hallway to the microfilm room. Belle quickly pulled out the film for 1878 and put it in the machine. Once they figured out where the social section of the paper was located, they were able to scroll fairly quickly. And then - there it was. Just a few short lines: 

David and Mary Margaret Swan are pleased to announce the birth of their daughter, Emma Eva Swan, on October 22nd, 1878 at three o-clock in the afternoon. She is welcomed by her paternal grandmother, Ruth Elizabeth Swan, and her maternal grandfather, Leopold Blanchard.

******************************************************

“David and Mary Margaret,” Emma whispered. 

Killian tightened his hold around her shoulders and brushed a kiss against the crown of her head. “They were your parents.”

Emma nodded slowly, and he watched her facial expression under the light of the waning moon. He could practically see happy memories light up her face. 

“I remember them,” she whispered. “We didn’t have a lot of money, but we were very happy. We lived on a farm.”

She dropped her head onto Killian’s shoulder and let out a contented sigh. They remained that way for a long moment, silently watching the stars twinkle overhead. 

“She had a beautiful smile,” Emma told him quietly, “and he used to cup my head so tenderly whenever he hugged me. That’s all I remember, though. Their faces are even fuzzy in my memory.”

“I’m sorry.”

She turned in his embrace so she could look him in the eye. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t remember anything if it weren’t for you. Thank you, Killian.”

She pulled his head down gently so she could press her lips to his. They lost themselves in the passion of their kisses.

***********************************************************

Killian sat with Belle once again in the library’s musty basement. Books with cracked leather bindings were piled around them: genealogy records, property records, and marriage certificates. With names and the information that Emma grew up on a farm, they were able to piece together the history of the Swan and Gold families. 

There was no evidence, however, of the Swan’s reporting their daughter was missing. In fact, aside from the birth announcement in the paper, there was no evidence that Emma Swan had existed at all. Everytime they got close, records were conveniently missing. Pages had clearly been torn out of several books, and years worth of Storybrooke Mirror and Portland Press articles were missing from the microfilm records. 

“It’s so obvious, though,” Belle exclaimed in frustration, slamming yet another large book shut. “Neal Gold falls in love with Emma Swan, a poor farmer’s daughter. His family would never approve of the relationship, so he never plans on marrying her. She’s just a good time to him.”

“I’m still a little grossed out by how old he was,” Killian muttered. 

Those records hadn’t been missing. Neal Gold was absolutely, unequivocally twenty nine years old when he met fourteen year old Emma Swan. Which made him thirty one when he got her pregnant and murdered her. 

Disgusting. 

“Belle? Did you hear me?”

His friend had gone completely pale, her finger frozen in the center of a yellowed page. Killian got up and leaned over her shoulder. 

“What’s this?”

She flipped the heavy leather volume back to the cover with a deep sigh. Killian leaned further over his shoulder and read the title out loud. 

“The Life, Impact, and Genealogy of Storybrooke’s Founding Family: The Golds. Well that’s not pretentious at all,” he snorted. Belle giggled. “By -”

He cut off, reeled back, and looked at Belle, who nodded in affirmation. “By Roderick Gaston?”

“There’s more,” Belle told him, flipping back to the page that had left her frozen. 

It was a family tree, and Killian scanned it quickly. At the top was Robert Gold, the founder of Storybrooke, with his wife Milah’s name beside his. Below that, it listed their only son: Neal Gold. He married Tamara Gold in 1894, the same year Emma died.

“Well, there’s another motive for murder,” Killian murmured, “not only did he get a teenager pregnant, he was cheating on his fiance.”

“Keep going,” Belle whispered. 

Neal and Tamara had three children: Bonnie, Felix, and Gretchen. The oldest daughter, Bonnie, had married Roderick Gaston, and they had two sons: Lewis and Mitchum Gaston.

“Wait - isn’t Mike’s dad Mitch Gaston?”

“Yes,” Belle told him softly, “and I met his grandfather once, too. His name is Roderick. I never put two and two together before, but the man was the worst snob. He kept asking who my people were and going on and on about how the Gaston’s were connected to Storybrooke’s finest families.”

“So this means that your boyfriend -”

“Is the descendant of Emma’s murderer.”

*******************************************************

“Where the hell are you going?”

Killian jumped at the sound of his brother’s voice. He whirled away from the back door to find Liam standing in the kitchen with the phone in his hand. Killian could hear the loud, grating beeping of the line as it went dead. 

“Who were you talking to at 3 am?” Killian shot back. 

Liam narrowed his eyes then slowly put the phone back onto the receiver that hung on the wall. He took his time untangling the long cord before turning back to face Killian.

“Something’s happened, little brother.”

Liam’s voice was so full of fear, shock, and sadness that Killian didn’t even bother correcting him on the little brother label. 

**********************************************************

The girl in the hospital bed couldn’t possibly be Belle. Her eyes were wild and darted around the room, her hair was a tangled mass around her face, and when she saw Killian she began to scream. 

“I saw her, Killy! The ghost! The blood, the blood, the blood . . .” 

Orderlies ran in and grabbed her before she could lunge from the bed. She fought them tenaciously, her back arching and her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Ivory runs red, ivory runs red. He’s dead, he’s dead.” She started to laugh maniacally as one orderly managed to get a syringe into her veins. They wrestled her to the bed and strapped her down, but she continued to speak, her words slurring. “He’s dead, dead, dead.”

She arched her back one more time, mumbling about ivory and red, shaking her head back and forth. Then she began to say the rhyme they had learned as children, singing it to a morbid little tune. 

“When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead.”

Killian felt the blood rush from his head, leaving his skin cold in the sterile room as he watched Belle’s breaths even out. He knew the kinds of drugs running through her veins, God did he know. He also knew no one would believe her. 

Mike Gaston was dead, and Killian couldn’t muster a modicum of grief. 

[crazyfreckledginger]

Batboys x Batsis!Reader - “Out Of The Dark” [Part 1]

Waiting desperately to be saved from a kidnapping, you end up being brainwashed to be used against your own brothers.

Requested by @flashdash626​: “Hi! I’m not sure if your taking requests, so if your not then you can choose to ignore this. Anyways! I was hoping you could do a Batsis were the sister is kidnapped by a random villain, and once the boys find her its to late and she was brainwashed and was now under control of the random villain. Once they like knock her out they bring her to the cave and try to bring her memories back. After a little bit of them talking to her her mind snaps and shes back to normal and she gets all emotional” 

A/N: I know how this looks, I was really inspired since I was stuck on another fic and ended up writing three parts to this I’m sorry T-T

Warning: angst, violence, swearing

Eyes fluttered closed as the sound of rails lulled her to sleep. University had been so tiring this week, having to finish a whole project by the end of the week, in which the guidelines had been given on Monday. A lot of preparation and running around in order to polish a well researched and thorough end result. 

The lack of sleep, tiring long hours and accumulated stress had finally left her body as soon as she handed in the work two hours before the deadline was scheduled. To say that fatigue had taken it’s toll on her was an understatement. 

For a Friday late afternoon, the train was quite empty heading towards Gotham, but then again, no one wants to go there willingly. Her eyes fluttered closed, mind numbing, it was still two stops into the city, each of which are more or less an hour long, she had time, even if it’s only a thirty minute- one hour nap at most. Too much sleep and it was disrupt -- or complicate her-return-to-normal-sleep schedule. 

 ~ I should be due at the mansion in just over two hours ~ 

A quick message wouldn’t hurt if there still need to be preparations. 

~ Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up? ~ DG

That was quick. Smiling, (Y/N) texted her older brother back. 

~ It’s okay, you're still busy, and I’ll be back before you’ve finished your work! ~

~ But we missed you! ~ DG

~ It’s been two weeks! Besides it’s the vacation, I’ll be home for a month or so. ~

~ Fine :( ~ DG

With a chuckle, she slipped her phone back in her inside pocket. A grown ass baby. 

Finally, she settled back into her seat, paying no mind to the occasional vibration of the carriage window to her head, inescapably submitting to sleep. 

When she finally woke up, it was at the end of the line, the carriages were empty, doors wide open, only the occasional person walking or sitting along the platform. 

Shit, the woman mentally cursed, grasping her things, and which, luckly, everything was still with her. Rushing out of the train, she scanned the screens: last train, departing in 2 hours and 30 minutes, Platform 8. The words glided along the end of the screen, in bright red dots. A disappointed sigh escaped her. At least it wasn’t late -- and dark. Well, the sun was setting. 

The last stop was at the outskirts of Gotham, so she was thankful that she didn’t have to cause too much trouble getting back. Despite her nap, she was still tired -- just less so, and she would really enjoy getting into a comfy bed in the company of her brothers, father and butler. 

A slightly irresponsible idea occurred to her. She could get home reaaaaally quickly if she wore her vigilante suit. The woman would be able to call her self-driving motorcycle and hurry to the Mansion in a record time. It was in her bag, and it’s not like it would hurt anyone. 

As long as she was careful when changing, this wasn’t going to threaten the reveal of her identity. 

With a smile, and making sure she held tightly onto the small bag she carried back with her, she briskly walked out of the train station, to an empty, dirty public bathroom.

Gross but will have to do. 

After having scanned the toilet for any lewd hidden cameras, she hastily slipped into her costume, placing her civilian clothes back in her bag and creeping out onto the nearest rooftop. Activating her tracking device and then the automated call, she sat down on the ledge, sighing in relief as she got the notification that her motorcycle just headed out. 

Now it was only a question of patience. Since nothing was happening, she lay down fully on the ledge, bag on the rooftop and arms under her head for more comfort. 

Her eyes closed, this time, not falling asleep, but listening to the nearly inheart environment surrounding her. 

That was until her phone vibrated. Sitting up, she reached for it, opening the message.

~ Where are you? I’m about to head home, but word is you’re not there yet. ~ DG

~ Yes, I missed the stop, called the Batcave, my ride should be here soon, sorry! ~

They must have been worried. 

Before she could answer, she heard quick footsteps trailing behind her. Her head snapped back but before she could distinguish anyone, the silhouette landed a hard blow to her head, which probably was a metal pole.

“Fuck.” she cursed in pain, her unlocked phone dropping off the ledge, sliding down the roof and landing in the gutter, “who are you!?” (Y/N) yelled standing up clumsily as the side of her head ached. 

“Lights out.” the unknown person grunted, lifting the pole high after dodging an attempted punch, slamming it to the back of her head. Her whole body smashed to the ground with violent force -- but it’s not something she felt, as she fell into unconsciousness.

****

“Where is she?” Bruce grumbled as Dick entered the Manor, an hour and a half later than planned, and after some exhausting, useless paperwork. 

“What’s happening?” he frowned, seeing Robin hurry down the stairs of the Batcave.

“(Y/N) was supposed to be due, the tracker on her motorcycle hasn’t moved and she isn’t answering her phone.” Jason geared up.

“I’m coming with you,” Dick scurried to the room with his suit, slipping into it.

“We’ll be on comms if anything comes up.” Tim nodded. 

It felt like a very long ride towards the location that was given to them, even though they got there very quickly. 

As Nightwing’s motorcycle stopped close to their destination, he hopped off, watching the tracker from the screen on his arm, zooming in to be able to pinpoint exactly where her last place was. 

Jason jumped onto the nearest rooftop, scouting the area in case it was a trap of sorts. He frowned, seeing that the coast was clear and signalling his brother his ‘go’ card. 

It must have been a good half an hour before they even found a clue -- excluding her untouched motorcycle. 

And it happen to make Red Hood jump out of his skin. Good thing Nightwing was still scouting the ground otherwise he would have been seriously embarrassed. 

The gutter buzzed, it was utterly unnerving. Cautiously,  he approached the roaring object, staring down at it as he spotted a phone. It was unlocked and vibrating widely. 

Crouching down, he grasped and inspected it.

(Y/N)’s definitely. And he didn’t like where this was going. It was Damian this time, calling her -- in addition to like 78 missed calls and numerous texts. 

“Found her phone, she’s definitely gotten kidnapped.” The man announced nonchalantly, but his heart was beating fast. Their sister? Kidnapped at an unusually early time of the night? Hours after she got back into Gotham? Someone must have been keeping an eye out and planning. 

And given the fact that nothing has come up, it might not be a usual Gotham criminal.

“We might have a problem.” Dick spoke through his comms.

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[cecevolume]

On The List (Part One)

Prompt from @halfbloodfox:  I’m looking for something where Lucifer has to take care of Trixie. Maybe, Decker is stuck at court testifying on a case, Dan is whothefuckknowswhere, Maze is on a hunt and at school Trixie gets hurt or sick. Surprise, Lucifer gets the call. He’s on The List? Since when? During Season 2 or 3, pre 4 nonsense at least. What do you think?

This was...unexpected.  And perhaps a little unprecedented.

Just a half hour before, it had been a semi-normal day for he and the detective, dressed in their best--well, not him, but the respect for the court was there--as Chloe waited to be called to testify.  Per usual, he tagged along, a charming ace in the hole, just in case.

But then his shirt had started buzzing outside the large double doors; to be more exact, his phone was ringing.

“Lucifer,” Chloe hissed as a clerk eyed them while they passed by, “turn it off vibrate!”

Smiling winningly, he reached for his chest pocket, purring, “An honest mistake, Detective; I assure you, I know proper procedure for the courtroom.”  He glanced at the screen, eyebrow raising as a bell of familiarity rang in his head.  “Should I know this number?” he asked, turning the screen towards Chloe.

She frowned, taking the phone from him as she murmured, “That’s Trixie’s school.”

“But why--”

Holding up a hand to stop him, she answered, “Hello?  Yes, Ms. Hendersen, I’m being brought to testify today.  Uh huh.  Oh, no, did you try Dan?  Of course not.  No, no, it’s not a problem; I’ll send Lucifer to pick her up.”  She paused for a long time, a muscle ticking in her brow.  “That’s a question for him at another time, don’t you think?  Uh huh.  Yeah, goodbye.”

Tilting his head, Lucifer asked, “Was that Trixie’s lovely school administrator--”

“Don’t.  Even.  Star,” Chloe growled, handing him back his phone.  The door beside them opened just a crack and the DA motioned for her to join them.  With a nod, she didn’t spare Lucifer a glance as she moved to the doors.  “I need you to pick up Trixie; she threw up in math class.  I’ll leave here as soon as I get the okay.”  Before she squeezed in the door, she muttered quickly, “Ginger ale--she likes Canada Dry best--for her stomach, some toast or crackers to have in her system.  Make sure she takes little sips.  This should be done in a couple hours and then I’ll be home.”

“Detective--” he said in alarm, reaching towards her, but the door was already closed.  For a moment, he just stood there, wondering two things simultaneously: did Chloe really trust him with her sick offspring and why did the school call his phone?

It hardly mattered now, however, what made sense.  Sitting in his Corvette outside an elementary school, he found that he was...uncomfortable.  It wasn’t often there was a situation he found himself unable to figure out--in fact, the first hadn’t been until he’d met the detective two years before--yet here he was.  Sure, he’d learned how to occupy Trixie, but this was new territory.

How did one pick up a sick child from their school and adequately take care of them?

Taking a deep breath, he got out of his car, striding towards the doors.  How hard can it truly be? he wondered, confidence growing the closer he got to the building.  If Daniel can do it, of course I’ll be able to.

Following the signs to the “office”--a large, gray room with children’s paintings hanging everywhere, most of the space taken up by a quadruple desk with five women squished side by side at their computers--Lucifer idly took out his handkerchief, wiping his hands as he eyed several of the drawings.

Surprisingly, there were a few that showed a real talent, should they continue honing the craft.

“Hello?” one of the women greeted hesitantly to his back.  “Can I help you?”

He turned with a charming grin, noting the immediate softening of all the secretaries’ faces.  “Hello, ladies,” he answered, strolling to the desk with his hands in his pockets.  “I actually received a call from Debra--Ms. Hendersen, asking that I pick up Beatrice Decker-Espinoza.  I know I’m not her parent--”

“Oh, you’re the infamous Lucifer Morningstar!” the first woman cried, nearly tipping her chair backwards as she stood.  Holding out a hand, she added, “Trixie is through that door, in the nurse’s office.  Karen will go and grab her while you sign her out.”  She shoved a clipboard with an attached pen under his nose.  “Just her name, your name, why you’re picking her up, and the time.”

Holding the pen, he raised an eyebrow at the woman.  That was certainly easy.  Did she already know to expect a deal?  Or was this her idea of flirting?  The memory of Malcolm Graham flashed through his mind and his gaze turned foreboding.  “Is it truly that easy to just pluck a child from your facilities?” he demanded, anger burning in his belly.

“Oh, my, you’re right!  I do need your picture ID to compare your information to what we have in the system,” she answered quickly, blushing wildly.  “I’m so sorry, it’s just that Debra gave such a...thorough description of you, I completely forgot!”

He slowly reached for his wallet, pulling out his license and handing it to her.  “Why would a primary school have my information?”

“Well, after the...kidnapping,” she said slowly, peeking a quick glance at one of the other women, who dropped her head, “Ms. Decker updated the people on Trixie’s approved list.  We aren’t supposed to release her to anyone other than her parents, her grandparents, or you.  There is a Mazikeen Smith on here, too, but that’s on a call ahead basis.  But if Ms. Decker and Mr. Espinoza aren’t available, we’re to contact you first.”

Blinking in shock, he made a noncommittal noise in his throat, taking back his ID and signing out the urchin.  “I, uh, thank you for your diligence,” he murmured, spinning on his foot to stride towards the chairs lining the windowed walls.  He was allowed to just come to the school and pick up Chloe’s child whenever he felt like?  No permission, no questions, no call aheads necessary?

Chloe Decker trusted the life of her offspring in the hands of the Devil?

“Lucifer?” a small voice whined from behind him, making him turn back around.

Straightening his jacket and cuffs, he answered, “Your mother has been held up in court today, Spawn.  So she sent me with clear instructions.”  He’d already called Patrick at LUX to provide the Canada Dry and crackers.  “I’ll be taking care of you this afternoon, until she is finished.  Is that all right?”

The little girl nodded her head slowly, face pale as she reached for his hand.  When he didn’t immediately take it, tears started to fill her eyes and he panicked.

Taking her hand gingerly, he raised the other to wave at the women.  “Thank you very much for your help.”

Then they were off.

-.-

If she hadn’t felt so gross, Trixie might have giggled at the scene before her.  

Lucifer had brought her back to his penthouse, explaining that it was closer to both the courthouse and school, that her mother wouldn’t be too much longer.  She’d thrown up during the elevator ride, only half-listening as he tried desperately to comfort her in the weirdest ways--“I’ll have the cleaners come straight away; you don’t have to worry about cleaning it yourself”--when he’d picked her up, rushing her through the doors to the bathroom.

He’d waited there, awkwardly patting her back until she was finished.  He’d then ushered her through to the couch, saying, “Don’t worry, urchin; I’m sure I have a bowl somewhere, or at least something similar.”

And there he’d left her, bringing them to now.  His suit jacket was gone, the sleeves of his white undershirt rolled up.  He held a fuzzy black blanket in one hand, a paint bucket in the other, holding them out to her.  “I’m sorry it took so long; I had to go into LUX’s storage to find a...vomit receptacle.”  When she didn’t take it from him, he placed it directly beside her face on the floor, gripping both edges of the blanket to lay it over her.  “I don’t know if you have a fever or not, but I’ve noticed you and your mother enjoy your ‘snuggle blankets’, as it were.  This is the softest one I could find; I hope it’s...snuggly enough for you.”

She giggled a bit, sniffling.  “Thank you, Lucifer,” she murmured.  “Can I have some ginger ale?  And something to eat?”

Nodding curtly, he turned towards the hallway that led to his mysterious kitchen.  “I have a variety of crackers, from wheat to sesame to pepper; do you have a preference in this state?” he called from the other room, the sound of cabinets closing echoing his words.

“Do you have saltines?  Or the Ritz circle ones?” she asked.

He was silent for a long time before she saw him come back around the corner.  “Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” he sighed striding back in to the room.  Brandishing a crystal plate that held at least half a box of both saltines and Ritz crackers, he set it on the coffee table.  “And Patrick will be bringing your ginger ale up; I assume a case should be adequate for just a few hours?”

Smiling, she said, “That’s actually way too much.”  He started to open his mouth, but Trixie knew better than to push the teasing with him.  “Will you turn on the TV and watch with me?  My mom usually rubs my back when I’m sick.”

After a moment, he nodded, crossing to the mantle to grab the remote.  He sat on the opposite side of the couch, pressing some buttons as a projection screen rolled out from the ceiling, a projector starting to whirl from behind them.  “Is there a particular show or movie that you prefer?”

“Can we watch Secret Life of Pets?  It’s funny and it’s on Netflix,” she added when his jaw clenched.  “It’ll help me fall asleep.”

He perked up at that.  “Is sleep good for you at this point?  At some of my...parties, you’re supposed to keep the humans awake until they have finished vomiting.”

Nodding, she answered, “As long as you help me if I wake up and have to puke again, I should be fine.”

“Then I suppose I’ll just sit here and keep watch.”

She smiled as he pulled up the movie, though she really missed her parents.  Lucifer was doing a great job, but he didn’t know what he was doing.  Her mom knew right when she needed snuggles and gave them to her without her asking.  She might be nine years old, but that didn’t mean being sick wasn’t scary.  Especially when her stomach was still roiling and her throat and mouth burned....

“Are you all right, spawn?” he asked immediately, making her realize that she had started to silently cry.  “Are you going to be sick again?”

She shook her head, but that’s when the sobs started.  “I miss my mom,” she whispered between savage breaths.  “She always strokes my hair so I can fall asleep.”

While she got control of herself, Trixie felt him leave the couch for a minute, making her feel even more alone.  He was really trying, but he didn’t know what to do, and her mom didn’t have to ask her how to take care of her, and she wasn’t left alone to cry--

Hands gently pulled her off the throw pillow she’d been using, only to deposit her head on sweatpants-clad thighs.  She tilted her head back to see Lucifer wearing a bright green T-shirt and gray sweatpants (they still had a tag on them).  “I needed to change in case you don’t make it to the bucket,” he explained easily, reaching over for the remote once again.  “Now, lay back; I’ll attempt to stroke your hair, but you may need to direct me.”

Shocked, Trixie did as he said without a word, feeling his hand gently rest on her head.

She fell asleep to the sound of the elevator dinging.

This will be getting a part two shortly because it is getting very long! That will be Deckerstar though. :)

[spectraspecs-writes]

Leviathan - Chapter 103

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 102. Chapter 104.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

——–

It takes them about a half hour to take all my stuff. Mostly because I made it difficult for them. By the time they’ve got all my stuff off, they are furious. But like a patient kind of furious, you know? Because they think they’ve got some big surprise in store for me. They think I’ve just got a mouth and nothing to back it up. Like I’m all bark and no bite. They’re in for a big surprise when they find out this kath hound has fangs.

They don’t even bother to blindfold me or nothing as they walk me from the detention area, where everyone else is, and the cell block. At least I won’t need a map to know where I’m going. I just have to know all these turns, get some landmarks in my head.

There’s a cell open, just for me. The Sith trooper gets close to me to push me in. If I can get him to get that close one more time, I can get his passcard out of his pocket. “Come on, girlie,” he says, tired of me, “Into the cell. Let's go, I haven't got all day to waste on you. I need to get back to my post.”

“Quit crowding me!” I say, pushing back against him, “Sheesh, I've met Gamorreans who didn't smell as bad as you Sith.”

Nope, that doesn’t get him close. “You think you're pretty funny, don't you?” he says, “But you're only making things worse for yourself.”

“How come every time you open your mouth to talk the scent of rancor dung comes out?”

Nope, that didn’t do it either. “Maybe a little time in solitary confinement will teach you the proper respect for the Sith! Now, get into that cell!” He shoves me in.

“Who designed those Sith uniforms anyway?” I goad, and I hope this one works because I’m running out of ideas, “A blind Rodian with a sick sense of humor?”

Now he gets close. But not quite close enough. “That's funny,” he says sarcastically, “You should tell that one to the torturer when he comes to deal with you.”

Almost got him. Maybe if I act scared he’ll get a little closer, close enough. “What?” I say sweetly and innocently, “You're… you're going to torture me?”

Got him! “No snappy comeback this time? The thought of torture scares you, hmm?” Almost got it… “Well, it should! The Sith have ways to inflict pain you can't even imagine.” Like the pain you’ll get when your superior realizes a 15 year old Twi’lek stole your passcard? “It may be a few hours before your torture begins; we're busy interrogating your friends right now.” So there’s somebody important with Rena right now? Good to know. “Hey, I know!” the trooper says like he’s being clever, “You could use this time to think up witty ways to beg for mercy.” He closes the cell on me and walks away laughing.

“Or,” I whisper to myself, “I could use the keycard I lifted from your pocket to slice into the security panel and get myself out of this cell.” This looks like one of the simplest systems I’ve ever cracked, geez. “Piece of cake!” I say, “I wonder when people will stop underestimating me?”

Now comes the fun part! Like a big game of hide and seek, except dangerous. Griff and me used to break into the Vulkar base, and he taught me how to walk quietly. He had a sound-dampening stealth unit, but he couldn’t afford two, so I had to be quiet and stealthy without one. He taught me that if I set my heel and my toe down at the same time, it would muffle the sound of my footsteps. So I shift over to the opposite wall and peer around the corner. Looking for a guard or something. He’s got his back turned. I quickly cross the hallway over to the footlockers at the end. Riot gear and contraband - awesome. Both are super easy to break open. My stuff now! There’s some armor, a couple blasters, and some medpacks in the first one, and some computer spikes and a stealth field generator in the other. Plus some other stuff, but I don’t want to load myself down with stuff I don’t need right now. If they had a vibroblade I’d totally use that, but they’re just normal swords. Plus I’ve got the advantage from a distance. Even with the armor on, I can’t take too many hits, and I’m not really strong enough to do a lot of damage with a normal sword. Plus, this is just like that program I did with HK earlier! I’ve got this!

“Psst!” Huh? “Psst!” I don’t think that’s a Sith. I’m being whispered at by a Rodian in a cell.

He starts whimpering at me in Rodese, but I have to stop him. I’ve never been good at understanding Rodese. “I’m sorry,” I whisper back, “I don’t understand you.”

He mumbles a bit to himself, then says in broken Huttese, “You not Sith! Help me out of this cell, and me help you!”

I don’t know… I’m only here to help Rena and everyone else. I don’t know this guy. I don’t think the Sith are right at all, but maybe this guy is in prison for a reason. “Who are you?” I ask.

“Evil Sith unjustly capture me and my ship! They think we spies. They torture all the crew, trying to get information.” This Sith really love torture, huh? “But we not have any information to give. But Sith not care. They ‘interrogate’ captain until his mind snap. Then they grab first mate. Then navigator… they all crazy now. Minds gone.” Oh my gosh, that’s terrible!” So sad, but they nothing but animals now. Me lowest rank on ship, but now me only one left. Soon Sith come to interrogate me, too. But me not know anything! Me just… uh… me just trader in ‘rare’ goods.”

Huh? “What do you mean by ‘rare’ goods?”

“Me bring things to people in need,” he says, “People who need things they can't get normally.”

Hang on. No. Way. “You’re a smuggler?” I say, “That’s so cool!”

“Me helps people, and people helps me!” he says, “You helps me, and me helps you, yes?”

“How can you help me?”

He gets close to the force field. “Me have something special. Something you can use on ship. Something very powerful… an ICE breaker.” A what now? “You use it to override Sith security programs.”

“That sounds so cool!” But wait. “How did you get in here?”

He grins. “Sith, uhm, Sith not very thorough in search, hehe.”

But where could he have kept it that they wouldn’t -- “Eww! That’s gross!”

“Think what you will! But me have way into computers, and computers have way into hangar. Me can get off ship eventually, while you still running around corridors, fodder for guards.”

Well, I mean… I was just thinking about how I have no way to get into the computers on my own. I can get past any door, get into any secured space, but I’m not really good with computers. Neither was Griff, there wasn’t really anything he could teach me about them, you know? I don’t really have a choice here. “Get cards from guards to get me out of cell. Me not want to be here when Sith torture me. You get me out, and me give you ICE breaker. It better than a hundred computer spikes!”

I scoff. “I don’t need to get any cards,” I say, and I pop open the security panel. “For a huge planet conquering operation, the Sith really need to bump up their security measures.” This is too easy! The force field goes down, no problem.

The Rodian looks from me to the panel in shock. “Maybe you no need ICE breaker. You talented little girl.”

“Who you callin’ little?”

He smiles and gives me the ICE breaker anyway. “Here, you helped me, now me helps you. Me has tuned the breaker to work on the brig computers, so you use it on brig level. It not work anywhere else.” My fingers feel gross. “Remember, the breaker only good for one use, so you not waste it. You go fight guards, me go and hide now, wait for chance to get to ship.” He rushes off.

I’m not sure how much fighting I’m going to do, either, though. I remember where the detention cells are - I think I’m just going to activate the stealth field and just sneak my way there. Any Sith I could take on, Rena, Carth, and Bastila could do way better and in way less time.

I activate my stealth field and begin the slow careful walk to the detention area. There aren’t a whole lot of Sith around here, which is weird, but I guess most of them are on the command level. You’d think more would be here, though, since Carth and Bastila are both high-level targets. That’s how Rena and Carth ended up on Taris, they said the Sith attacked their ship looking for Bastila. And Carth was a big deal in the Mandalorian Wars, right? Plus he knows Admiral Karath, so that personal connection has to mean something.

I don’t know why they’re so interested in Rena, though. I mean, sure, she’s bad ass, but so is Canderous and they weren’t so interested in him. I can’t figure what their motivation was for that.

We do seem to be the hot topic of conversation among the guards, though. “She completely buckled under the pressure,” I hear one of them say, sort of laughing, “All the Admiral had to do was threaten her boyfriend, she answered every question!”

“Couldn’t stand to see him torture, eh?” another says, “Not at all like the Revan I remember.” But Revan’s dead. And a dude, right? Unless… what if Revan was a woman the whole time? Maybe that’s why the Sith were so interested in Bastila! No way, Bastila’s a Sith Lord? And they tortured Canderous? Bastila’s been helping us the whole time though! Why would she help us if she’s Revan?

“She doesn’t remember it,” the first says, “The Jedi must have wiped her memory.” Oh, so that’s why Bastila’s been helping us! She doesn’t remember. That’s a pretty horrible thing for the Jedi to do, though! I always thought they were the good guys! I mean, I guess I could be mad at Bastila, but it seems to me that if she doesn’t remember being Revan, it doesn’t really matter anymore. When I picture her in my head, I don’t see any Dark Lord, I see my friend, who’s helped us through everything! Someone who’s like a big sister to me. And it’s not like I’m not going to save her. It’s the right thing to do. I don’t think I should tell her, though. She might not believe me.

“I’ll bet Lord Malak will be surprised to see her,” the second one says, “Any word on when he’s arriving?”

“I know he’s on his way,” the first one says, “Admiral Karath called him shortly after we brought them on board. It shouldn’t be too long now.” Then I better get moving! I don’t want Bastila to still be here when Malak gets here. Since she’s Revan… I don’t even know what could happen! And I don’t want to find out.

The detention area is locked up tight, though. It shouldn’t be a problem for me, though, right? Okay… this is taking a little while.

… that didn’t work. Try again?

… geez, this is harder than it looks…

… why is this so hard to break into? Darn it!

Okay. Time for a different approach. This is a really hard security system. Guess that makes up for how simple it was earlier. If I can find a computer, I can use this ICE breaker and open the door. I think it would have to be a brig computer, though, not just the first one I find. The Rodian said he tuned it for this level, but since it’s only got the one use, I don’t want to risk it. So back to the cell block area.

I didn’t see one near the cells themselves, so there must be one in a control office nearby. The first door I come across close to the cells is just before them. It’s not secured so it opens right up.

Two troopers. Okay. They don’t see me yet, I’ve still got the stealth field up. And I can’t get at the computer because one of them is in front of it. And I can’t afford to wait, either, if Malak’s coming. Who knows when he’ll be here? I’ve got to get everyone out before he does. Maybe Bastila won’t even find out she’s Revan if I can get everyone out before Malak gets here. So I’m gonna have to take care of this myself. I let the door close first, so nobody in the hallway will know what’s going down. I slowly pull out the blaster and fire off two quick shots at the one near the computer. He didn’t even see me coming, wasn’t ready at all, and he falls against the console and hits the floor. I turn to the second one and fire before he can even pull out his blaster. Whoo. That went well. Awesome.

I stand at the computer and pull out the ICE breaker, hook it up to the computer. It processes for a little bit. Then, “ENTER COMMAND.” Cool. Open detention area. “DETENTION AREA OPEN.” Log out.

The walk back to the detention area is just as slow as it was the first time. But the door is open. Another computer terminal, but this one isn’t even secured. Guess they were counting on that heavy door to keep anyone out. I unlock the cells and the storage area at the same time.

“Mission!” I hear Zaalbar call. He comes over and hugs me tightly. Canderous smiles at me, trying to hide it but I can tell he’s proud of me. Glad I’m all right. Then Carth, Bastila, and Rena.

“Good job, Mission!” Carth says, “I knew you wouldn't let us down. When we get out of this I'm going to see you get a medal from the Republic for everything you've done!”

“It wasn’t that much,” I say with a shrug, trying to be modest.

“You did good work, kid,” Canderous says.

Really, though, I’m just… glad I could help.

[megroha]

Zelda’s Diary

(spoilers ahead) (I decided to note this all down bc I was spending so much time sneaking in and out of the castle to read it again - spoiler, I haven’t stopped sneaking in and out of the castle to read it again)

After meeting with the Champions, I left to research the ancient technology, but nothing of note came of my research. The return of Ganon looms - a dark force taunting us from afar. I must learn all I can about the relics do we can stop him. If the fortune-teller's prophecy is to be believed, there isn't much time left... Ah, but turning over these thoughts in my head pits me ill at ease. I suppose I should turn in for the night. P.S. Tomorrow my father is assigning HIM as my appointed knight... I set out for Goron City today to make some adjustments to Divine Beast Vah Rudania. I still recall his eyes on me as I walked ahead. The feeling stayed with me so long, I grew anxious and weary. It is the same feeling I've felt before in his company... And still, not a word passes his lips. I never know what he's thinking! It makes my imagination run wild, guessing at what he is thinking but will not say. What does the boy chosen by the sword that seals the darkness think of me? Will I ever truly know? Then, I suppose it's simple. A daughter of Hyrule's royal family yet unable to use sealing magic... He must despise me. I said something awful to him today... My research was going nowhere. I was feeling depressed, and I had told him repeatedly not to accompany me. But he did anyway, as he always does, and so I yelled at him without restraint. He seemed confused by my anger. I feel terribly guilty...and that guilt only makes me more agitated than I was before. I am unsure how to put today's events into words. Words so often evade me lately, and now more than ever. He saved me. Without a thought for his own life, he protected me from the ruthless blades of the Yiga Clan. Though I've been cold to him all this time...taking my selfish and childish anger out on him at every turn... Still, he was there for me. I won't ever forget that. Tomorrow, I shall apologize for all that has transpired between us. And then...I will try talking to him. To Link. It's worth a shot. Bit by bit, I've gotten Link to open up. It turns out he's quite a glutton. He can't resist a delicious meal. When I finally got around to asking why he's so quiet all the time, I could tell it was difficult for him to say. But he did. With so much at stake, and so many eyes on him, he feels it necessary to stay strong and to silently bear any burden. A feeling I know all too well... For him, it has caused him to stop outwardly expressing his thoughts and feelings. I always believed him to be simply a gifted person who had never faced a day of hardship. How wrong I was... Everyone has struggles that go unseen by the world... I was so absorbed by my own problems, I failed to see this. I wish to talk with him more and to see what lies beneath those calm waters, to hear him speak freely and openly... And perhaps I, too, will be able to bare my soul to him and share the demons that have plagued me all these years. Father scolded me again today. He told me I am to have nothing more to do with researching ancient technology. He insisted that I focus instead on training that will help me awaken my sealing magic. I was so frustrated and ashamed I could not even speak. I've been training since I was a child, and yet... Mother passed away the year before my training was to begin. In losing her, I lost not just a mother, but a teacher. Mother used to smile and tell me, "Zelda, my love, all will be well in the end. You can do anything." But she was wrong. No matter how I try or how much time passes...the sealing that is my birthright evades me. Tomorrow I journey with Link to the Spring of Power to train. But thus, too, will end in failure. Such is my curse. I had a dream last night... In a place consumed by darkness, a lone woman gazed at me, haloed by a blinding light. I sensed she was...not of this world. I don't know if she was a fairy or a goddess, but she was beautiful. Her lips spoke urgently, but her voice did not reach me. Would I have heard her if my power was awoken? Or was my dream simply a manifestation of my fears? I am sure I will know the answer soon, whether I wish to or not... I turned 17 today. The means this is the day I will finally be allowed to train at the Spring of Wisdom. When Link arrives, we will set out for Mount Lanayru. The other Champions will accompany us there. I have not seen my father since he last scolded me. Things are too strained now... I will meet with him when I return. ... Actually...I've had a horrible feeling ever since that weird dream. No one would believe a failure of a princess, but... Right now, for no particular reason, I am filled with a strange and terrible certainty that something awful is about to happen.

[trillian-anders]

My my my. I'm at my desk at work, in TEARS, that have been streaming for a while now. Four Christmases is really something to behold. It took me THERE. Like, emotionally? WHAT A RIDE! You've written a Ransom that is canon, meaning an a$$hole and truly fcked up. BUT, you went beyond that and developed him in a way that, even tho he's canon aka a murderer, made me really wanna root for him. And it hurt SO DAMN MUCH when he was being mean to her on Christmas, saying he wasn't gonna be there (1/?)

I wanted to scratch his beautiful face up and his eyes out because OMG SHE LOVES YOU AND YOU LOVE HER, how DARE you do that to her!!! But even then, you gave it multiple levels and she came around and it somehow was ok. But that last Christmas, man. MAN. I am not sure I've ever read a truly redemptive story like this one? I mean, I don't know if irl this would be possible but this piece made me a believer and I'm just SO wrecked, red eyes and sniffling, totally in awe and disbelief, really (2/?)

I mean, I'm sitting here asking myself, "WHAT does it say about me that I'd actually root for a murderer?" but like, you did such a THOROUGH job of developing Ransom and believably so. And the reader. What an unbelievable woman, to sacrifice for her sister as much as she did, to put up with Ransom's GROSSNESS, but still have the heart to understand the WHY behind it all and be open to him, to allow him to be vulnerable. I am now finally out of words, but my God, what a phenomenal story (3/?)

SO sorry for blowing up your Inbox but I HAD to let you know what a great job you did. Not to mention, when it got smutty, it was VERY well done and I was like OH! Having been emotionally ENTRENCHED in this 'Verse and so invested in these two, it almost caught me off guard, but in a really good way lol. Any future Ransom pieces, I'd love to be tagged on and THANK YOU for sharing your talent and this incredible story. Four Christmases is so well developed and written and just CHEF'S KISS GREAT!

xxx

Trust me I’m so happy you did blow up my inbox lol This honestly made me cry lol I was feeling kind of unhappy with how the fic turned out only because I worked on it for so long and I’m not super confident in my writing. 

Obviously I’m just starting out actually posting my fanfiction, but you’ve honestly made me very happy. 

I’m not sure if I will be writing more? I’m open to drabbling prompts or something, headcannons, but I’m not like 100% ready to write more with this same pairing only because it was a little difficult for me to finish. But maybe one day lol 

I said I wasn’t writing anything about Ransom after The Assistant and here we are so. If you have anything you want just let me know! I’ll always write a little drabble or something. 

much love x

[kob131]

What do you feel about the post about Vic mignogna by ultraericthered

https://ultraericthered.tumblr.com/post/183990672385/im-sick-of-the-rangers-spamming-vics-tag-with

Let’s break this down.

Vic is absolutely guilty of inappropriate behavior, misconduct, sexual harassment, and possibly (just possibly) sexual assault towards others. This has been established by his pattern of behavior for years. Monica and the others are being entirely honest in their stories and the allegations are very likely honest as well. How this is even in question, I have no idea, but it upsets and disturbs me that there are so many who are quick to jump to Vic’s defense while simultaneously vilifying his opponents and accusers (and possibly victims).

A, He hasn’t been proven guilty of exual harassment OR assault and inapporiate behavior means nothing.

And B. yeah, no. Monica has been lying via omission for months now, refusing to give ANY details on any incidents DESPITE the fact that those details are REQUIRED to convict him. And before you say she’s scared: she’s openly threatened vic supporters with legal action. Over asking her for info. That is not the behavior of an innocent person.

Oh and C. NOTHING came to light about Vic for MONTHS. The ProJared shit started and ended in the same month.

What gives credibility to the side of Monica Rial, Jamie Marchi, Jamie McGonnigal, Marzgurl, etc. is that not only do their words and allegations line up with accounts of Vic’s skeevy behavior towards fans and women that have been going around the internet for YEARS (It’s honestly astonishing just how far back some of this goes), but how many other VAs, people actually in the industry who might’ve worked alongside Vic and would be there to witness his actions, have come out in Vic’s defense? Can’t really think of much. Meanwhile, how many have been coming out in support of the alleged victims? Quite a handful, even J. Michael Tatum, himself a victim of sexual assault in the past. Apparently, Vic being a primadona and a skeevy womanizing creeper has been an open secret in the VA industry since forever.

And of these guys:

Monica has evaded legal action and refused to give details NECESSARY to convict him

Marzgurl has sactively ENOCURAGE VIOLENCE

And Jamie has been proven to bully people into dropping Vic from cons.

As for the ‘accounts”: they’re eitehr anonyomous accounts, too old to prove...or taken out of context of the people involed.

And by the way. how many famous people probably came out and said ‘that guy’s a commie’ back during the Red Scare? People coming out to help doesn’t MEAN anything without proof. People in the wrong can still come out in droves. And if that doesn’t convince: does that mean rape victims who don’t have public support while their rapists DO are the ones in the wrong then? Same logic of ‘One party has more public support than the other, therefore they’re right.’

What’s damning on Vic’s side of things? Well not only was a thorough investigation into the sexual harassment allegations conducted during the time of the Broly movie’s production prior to Funimation’s decision to lay Vic off (something his fans don’t even seem to realize happened) -

You mean the one where they didn’t give any info and was probably a ‘cut off the controversial figure for profit’ decision?

- but Vic’s response to the whole situation has…just not been how I think an absolutely innocent man getting his career and livelihood threatened by accusation of things he absolutely never did and would never do would respond. Vic’s been pretty sincere and professional throughout this and I give him props for that, but his “defenses” against the allegations have always been along the lines of “I remember things differently” or “I didn’t realize she felt that way - I thought that thing we had was consensual and mutual.” Of course he’s not going to recall those incidents as being ones where he committed sex offenses because he did not see his actions as being such when he committed them. He fails to recognize how and why his behavior is so wrong. He doesn’t knowingly think of himself as a sex fiend and harasser when he acts that way - he really thinks he’s being nice (backed up by the allegation where he repeatedly asked his victim to “let me be sweet to you.”). But those moments were not consensual. The girls and women he touched or romanced were not comfortable with it.-

And Monica has threatened legal action and Marzgurl thretaened PHYSICAL VIOLENCE.

You wanna judge this based on public reaction? Show me where Vic threatens anyone who questions him.

What his intentions were at the time don’t matter when put next against how his victims internalized his actions and how they were made to feel -

No, intentions DO matter. That’s why ‘self defense’ and ‘murder’ are different concepts.

And on top of that, look at how Monica Rial worded her own account:

This, by contrast, is Vic’s wording of his side of things. He “got lazy.” He’s “a work in progress like everyone else.” And my personal favorite: “Voice actors are no different from you: we’re bozos. We’re all dumb humans just trying to do our best.” The emotions are sincere, but the words are unrefined and a bit try-hard in trying to paint a sympathetic image of himself.

And Monica, by your own standards, is trying to appeal to basic human empathy to trick people into believing her. Thing is, Vic is consistent in his actions. Monica has acted contradictory MANY times.

And what’s damning on the side of Vic’s fans and defenders? Well, I could not help but notice that they can be found all over Youtube, hive of the Far Right that it’s become-

Strike 1.

I also could not help but notice that whenever I clicked a video made for supporting Vic and tearing down his opposition and accusers (who, again, could very well be his victims), it was literally ALWAYS a dude speaking.

Strike 2.

It was always some man speaking in defense of this other man who he probably doesn’t even personally know in a situation he wasn’t there to experience and knows next to shit about, and demonizing “waamen” that he also doesn’t personally know. And in all of this, I have not once seen any valid reasoning for why Vic absolutely must be innocent of the allegations made against him other than “he’s a super popular, charming, beloved VA” and “he seems like such a nice guy”. It’s frankly quite terrifying that the immediate default for these people is to stand with the popular, prolific, powerful man (and I don’t want to be an SJW here, but that Vic is handsome, white, straight/cis, and Christian might be a huge part of it

Strike 3-

Not only is this gonna EMBOLDEN the assholes on Vic’s side-

But Monica’s defenders (like YOU) have focused on gender and bullshit instead of anything FACTUAL. You act like anyone whose accused of sexual assault is IMMEDIATELY guilty if the accuser is a woman and teh accused is a man. Never mind how most of these accusations come down to simple miscommunication between the parties and nevermind how if a guy tries coming to the police about being raped, it’s likely HE’LL be arrested. Let alone what happens if the woman gets pregnant and can sue for child support...even if she committed STATUTORY RAPE.

Oh, and Vic’s italian and that culture is very touchy feely. So guess what? You’re racist by your own logic.

and denounce the women who come forward to accuse him as being liars because this is exactly why women who are victimized by men of such power and popularity tend to NOT come forward with stories of their victimization immediately after it happens. Yes, anyone is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, but that doesn’t mean the accusers should be denounced as liars and demonized for daring to mess with the man - they ought to be shown support and respect IF in the case what they say is true and they really were hurt by that man. If they’re proven liars beyond any doubt, THEN they can be given well deserved scorn. But brushing them off beforehand is Not OK. Especially if it’s with conspiracy theories about how this is some big coordinated feminist effort to tear down a great man and destroy his livelihood, or it’s a retaliation from yaoi fangirls who hate that Vic dares to be anti-yaoi and Conservative in regards to gay people.

And yet you condemn Vic before he is proven to be lying.

Sorry, either condemn yourself or be better.

These assclowns have also constantly resorted to the defense of “Oh, hugging other people and kissing them in places not on the lips totes isn’t sexual harassment”. Totally ignoring the little details of the girls getting the hugs typically being total strangers to Vic outside of being fans of his work who are thus underage girls being touched by a grown man who has absolutely no relation to them, that he might have done the same with female co-workers behind the scenes, and that he has done these things on a whim, without the recipient’s consent and without paying any mind to how it might make them feel.

Also ignoring if they give consent like that time someone tried portraying Vic touching a supposedly underage girl only to BACKFIRE as the womana spoke out in defense of the man.

This has been a consistent pattern of behavior with him,

Consistently unproven.

and allegedly, he’s justified it with saying “silence gives consent.” Like a girl or woman absolutely has to verbally say “no” or tell him outright that he’s making them feel uncomfortable for it to be considered wrong and unwarranted. Basically “a lack of a No makes it a Yes.” I can’t begin to describe how gross that is.

So Vic has to be a fucking MINDREADER or else.

Great to know, especially considering how my own condition would make this shit damn near impossible to see.

The worst part is how these IStandWithVic cultists demonize Monica Rial. A woman who, by her own admission, was a victim of rape as a teenager.

Says the man who demonizes Vic.

A woman who has shown nothing but emotional and intellectual honesty and kindness on social media, who has acknowledged that even Vic and his fans don’t deserve to be harassed and hurt, to the point of stating this:

https://twitter.com/Rialisms/status/1095156641543192576

Funny how she says this TWO DAYS LATER than your picture.

But she’s both painted as a vicious liar who’s out to destroy a good, innocent man’s life and career, and is ALWAYS being written off by these dudes as just “the VA for Bulma.” As though she’s had no other notable roles in her long career of voice acting aside from that one character (as opposed to the oh-so talented, versatile and legendary star that is Vic). As though that character has had only one English VA. As though Monica just plain doesn’t matter when put next to a fellow VA in the industry who happens to be a handsome white, straight/cis, Christian male.

Keep being a bigoted douchebag, I can hear the alt RIght cumming.

And as though Monica had any feasible reason to lie about her experiences with Vic and assassinate his character on social media.

*points at you and your blind defense of her*

the pro-Vic crowd seems to think she’s greedy or jealous or just resentful towards Vic as a person, and is out to get him so that she can get money or respect or more roles or petty revenge or whatever.

Literally change ‘vic’ to ‘monica and that’d describe you.

But if that were really the case, how does that account for the friends and family who support her claims? How does it account for the fellow VAs (Jamie Marchi, Jamie McGonnigal, J. Micahel Tatum, Josh Grelle, Justin Briner, Daman Mills) who’ve all supported her claims and have said “Yeah, Vic’s been like that forever.

‘Get social brownie points’

How does it account for the fans and congoers who have been sharing their stories of uncomfortable experiences and encounters they’ve had with Vic FOR YEARS?

‘Stories’ are not truth.

The deck is NOT stacked in Vic’s favor here, so “he’s successful, popular, funny, friendly, charming, talented and a classic VA who’s so well loved in the anime community” is NOT going to cut it as an assumption of his innocence or a defense for his character.

No, that’s the legal system that says ‘innocent until proven guilty.’

He needs to be held accountable for his misdemeanors against people who gave no consent to being touched, hugged, kissed, stalked, romanced, or squicked out by him.

And yet Monica threatening legal action and Marzgurl making THREATS OF VIOLENCE? A-Ok.

It’s a Michael Jackson type of situation - even if he’s NOT done the things he’s being accused of, that does NOT make his creepy behavior towards underage fangirls excusable or alright.

Funny thing about Micheal Jackson-

The accusations, when you actually pay attention, are complete bullshit. Events don’t line up, accounts vary wildly, facts contradict stories. And yet he STILL suffered until the day he died and BEYOND. So thanks for remindidng why, as much as I hate Yellow Flash, Hero Hei and Nick Riekta-

You idiots are the worse evil.

Tl;dr: I shall from now on be referring to this VA as “Vic Cosby Mignogna.” ‘Cause even if he’s not guilty of the heinous shit that Bill Cosby is guilty of, his case is still all too eerily similar.

#IStandWithMonica

So does that mean if I call Monica ‘Monikkka’- She’s a KKK member now?

Oh wait, you wouldn’t give two shits if the places were reversed would you? For your cry of ‘I’m not an SJW!’- You sure do sound like the fucking strawman it represents.

[seductresses-temple]

Veritaserum, vampire, voluntary. Pansmione. 1k

She lives!!!!!!! I finally got a random stroke of inspiration for this so instead of working on my multiple WIPS, have some random Pansmione!

——————————————————————————————————

On Trial

Pairing: Pansiome

Rating: Teen (probably? Honestly if it’s not mature or explicit, I have no clue how to rate stuff but Teen sounds like a safe bet)

CW: Talk of Animal Hunting -one of the characters is honestly a vampire and while I feel like hunting animals as opposed to feeding from humans is a common trope, I know it grosses some people out and feel the need to mention it. 

I also wanna go ahead and tag @pansmione cause I always tag them in all Pansmione related things lol

——————————————————————————————————

“The accused stands charged with attacking and then drinking the blood of a Muggle, thereby breaching the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy as well as violating the terms of her probation. If the accused cannot produce witness against these accusations then-”

I can prove she’s innocent!” the words flew out of Hermione’s mouth before she could stop herself. Moments such as this had her cursing her Gryffindor bravery. It always seemed to rear its ugly head before she could formulate a thorough course of action. Shite.

Kinglsey quirked an eyebrow at her but motioned for her to take the seat at the center of the room where Pansy Parkinson was currently sitting. As Parkinson rose from her seat to relinquish it to Hermione, their eyes locked for the briefest of moments. Hermione tried to pour the depth of her apology into her gaze. She never wanted the truth to come out this way. This wasn’t her secret to tell but the thought of remaining silent…she couldn’t allow it.

“Bring forth the veritaserum.” The words made Hermione grip the arms of her chair so tightly her knuckles whitened. She didn’t question if it was necessary, it certainly wasn’t. Hermione’s reputation within the Ministry was impeccable but she knew this was a high profile case. All the cases pertaining to ex Death Eaters and their children were high profile cases. The Daily Prophet gobbled up any scrap of negative press they could get like the vultures they were.

As the veritaserum worked its way through her system, Hermione scanned the courtroom to find Parkinson’s dark eyes glaring at her with an intensity that she was honestly afraid of. Veritaserum worked quickly, apparently, because she certainly wouldn’t have admitted something like that without it. She managed to mouth the words ‘I’m sorry’ before the questioning began.

“For the record, please state your full name for the Wizengamot.”

“Hermione Jean Granger.” The words slid out of her mouth like water between her fingers. She was vaguely aware of the fact that she didn’t want to be doing this. Some part of her knew this was such a devastating breach of trust but the alternative was too bleak and terrible.

“And how is it, that you say you can prove the innocence of the accused?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, feeling her stubbornness barreling toward the surface to fight the Veritaserum neck-and-neck “she was with me the night of the attack.” Flash. Flash. Flash. The uproar was instantaneous, from the rapid fire shots from the cameras, the outraged shocks, the scandalized murmurs. It took Kingsley nearly a full two minutes to get the courtroom under control again.

“Why was the accused with you that night, Ms.Granger?”

“She was hungry”

A couple of Wizengamot members clucked in frustration at such a basic answer but Kingsley seemed completely unbothered. Her leaned back in his chair, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lip.

“What is the nature of your relationship with the accused, Ms.Granger?”

Hermione couldn’t help herself, she looked over at Parkinson “She’s my girlfriend. We’ve been together for three years, five months, and seventeen days.”

The courtroom exploded with flashing bulbs and the furious scratch of quills against parchment. It was pandemonium. To Hermione’s ears it was all a gentle hum of background noise as she took in the expression on her lover’s face, their best kept secret laid bare to the world. If they were girlfriends when they walked into the courtroom, Hermione wasn’t so sure they would be when they walked out. Pansy looked seconds away from Avada Kedavra’ing her in front of the entire Wizengamot and spending the rest of her natural born life in Azkaban.

Their relationship was supposed to be a secret. They had agreed on that during their eighth year, they’d made a promise to each other to keep it secret just long enough for Pansy to work through the legal issues surrounding her finances. With both her parents in Azkaban and she herself being on probation there was so much red tape for Pansy to run through and being the child of a couple of Death Eaters certainly didn’t make anything easier on her. Their relationship had been…rocky…at first. It started when Hermione caught Pansy in the forest draining a deer dry. The sight was absolutely ghastly and she had of course gone off on a complete tangent about how Pansy shouldn’t be killing animals on school property.

Pansy hadn’t liked her crash course in ethics and snapped that she was either going to drain some “fuzzy little creature” dry once a day or she’d be coming after Hermione’s “pretty little throat” about once a week. It was meant to be sarcastic and scathing and so incredibly Slytherin but Hermione refused to back down from the challenge. She’d voluntarily become Pansy Parkinson’s primary source of food just to get her to stop killing defenseless creatures on school grounds.

It started off awkward at first. Hermione mostly talked to Parkinson -because it was Parkinson back then for a long time- while she fed in an attempt to get through the pain and the awkwardness of it all. They’d meet in the Room of Requirement, Parkinson would feed, Hermione would ramble, and then they’d part ways. After a month, Parkinson started responding to all of Hermione’s babbling after she’d fed. After two months of pouring her heart out and venting her frustrations, Hermione realized things with Ron weren’t going to improve. When they broke up it was Parkinson that consoled her, even though it was her decision -one Ron agreed with- she was still hurt by it. Ron was her first love and Parkinson dutifully listened to all her woes. After six months Parkinson had become Pansy and shortly after they shared their first kiss…the rest seemed like ancient history now.

Hermione didn’t know whether she was necessarily a lesbian, but she knew she cared deeply for Pansy. After a year she knew for a fact she loved her and after two years she knew she was hopelessly in love but now she may have just destroyed everything they’d built together. The rest of the trial finished up nice and neat, concise and fast like Wizengamot trials were intended to be and Hermione endured it all in a Veritaserum laced blur.

It wasn’t until she heard Kingsley threatening to ban the reporters from future trials that Hermione even realized it was over. Pansy had been cleared of all charges thanks to her statement but she also still looked ready to murder something so Hermione had no idea where they stood. Pansy pulled her off into a small conference room down the hall and slammed the door shut behind her, perfectly manicured nails drumming against her bicep.

“You,” she said after a moment, pointing her finger in Hermione’s face “are so idiotically Gryffindor yet so bloody fucking brilliant I don’t know whether I want to kiss you or hex you into the Netherworld.” Sighing, Pansy strode forward and captured Hermione’s lips in a searing, passionate kiss. Pansy had always been good at answering her own questions.

[peachywise]

doctor kaspbrak

eddie kaspbrak x reader 

-- one-shot

-- synopsis: Henry Bowers gave you a bloody nose. Your best friend, Eddie, was right there to fix you back up. (aged up; 17)

-- notes: this was a request from anonymous!! “can you just write some short eddie fluff” this is some pretty short stuff, 1.3k words. im sorry for any poor editing on my part, i wrote this in a quick hour or so. fighting and a bit of blood trigger warning and all that. 

Henry Bowers was a little bitch.

Scratch that. Henry Bowers was a huge bitch. A gigantic bitch. The biggest bitch to ever bitch a bitch.

And yet he managed to punch you. Ugh. You were never going to live that down.

Tilting your head back and pressing the sleeve of your sweater to your nose, you couldn’t quite get a handle on stopping the bleeding. You might have even been able to return the favour if it hadn’t been for the principal finding you in the parking lot and breaking up the whole fight. You managed to escape a stupid trip to the office, but never got that sweet comeuppance.

Honestly, it was all so stupid. Henry was just pissed off you didn’t put his name on a project you were supposed to be doing together. 'Supposed to' being the keyword. He tried his hand at scare tactics to try and force you to do it alone but still give him half the credit, but where was the fun in that? You had done all the work, and you made damn sure the teacher knew.

The punch was worth it just to see that coiled up, angry shocked look on his face. It’s like he saw his grandmother having sex or something. Priceless.

Cutting across the street and off school property, you sat on the side of the road to catch your breath. No doubt Bowers would be looking for you to finish the job or whatever. You were kind of looking forward to it.

“Are you insane! What were you thinking! Oh my God, is that blood? Y/N, you’re dripping blood everywhere, I’m going to be sick,” a squeaky, concerned voice called from behind you. Tugging your hand away from your face, Eddie, your best friend, crouched down in front of you to inspect the damage.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you huffed, trying to fend his hands off your face as he tilted it in every direction and angle he could. It wasn’t like he was inspecting fine china he was interested in buying or anything, no reason to be so thorough.

“You are not okay,” he huffed, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands to finish looking for any bump or scratch Bowers may have left. You stopped fighting. Wasn’t worth the energy. “I saw him hit you, I was just running up to you when you both fled off like a pack of wild animals,” he continued, letting go of your face and grabbing your hand, hoisting you back up to your feet. “What was that all about anyway? You’re turning into Richie.”

You gave a visible shudder, saying strictly, “you take that back,” with a hard look his way. Eddie rolled his eyes, pushing you in front of him as he steered you in a different direction— towards his house. “Don’t avoid the question,” he said. “I refused to put his name on a project he did no work on. Do you really think Henry Bowers could have written a coherent report on The Great Gatsby? Let alone actually read the book? The teacher would have figured it out anyways whether his name was on it or not.” Eddie gave a slight, exasperated shake of his head. “You couldn’t have just avoided him?”

How dare he even suggest such a thing.

“No. Besides, I would have gotten a couple more good hits on him if the principal never interrupted. That kid deserves whats coming to him,” you muttered, lifting your sleeve back up to haphazardly wipe away the blood as it continued to drip down your nose. You were positive it wasn’t broken, but that didn’t mean it felt too pleasant.

“Jesus, well let’s get you cleaned up and then I can lecture you more afterward,” the petite boy grumbled. 

Oh, joy.

“Is your mom home?” You questioned as Eddie ushered you inside the small, suburban home. It always smelt so stale in here. Stale with a hint of mac and cheese.

“No, she’s at some church meeting to plan an event for this weekend,” he shrugged, grabbing your hand and leading you to the small, retro pink bathroom. As close as you and Eddie were, and as much as you loved him, you didn’t spend a lot of time at his house. Not that he wanted to anyways. Half the time he slept over at your house after popping up in the middle of the night. You never asked questions, but as the years went by, you knew his mother just kept getting a little more overbearing.

Sitting down on the cushioned, toilet seat lid, Eddie held up a single finger and called, “one sec!” as he bustled down the hallway, most likely to his room. Taping your foot a little anxiously on the floor, you leaned back and fiddled with your now bloodied sleeve. Gross.

Soon enough, he entered back in the room and crouched down in front of you, setting a fully loaded first aid kit by his feet.

“Isn’t your mom going to notice if stuff goes missing from that?” you questioned a little nervously. The last thing you wanted was to get his mom in a tizzy. “Nope. This is my own secret kit, she has no idea I have it,” he grinned up at you, utterly happy with that fact. Any small thing he could sneak past his mom always seemed to light him up a bit. It was cute.

“Then go for it, Doctor Kaspbrak,” you laughed, rolling up your sleeves for him to also check out the bit of road burn you had gotten from hitting the ground after getting punched pretty hard. Eddie blushed at the nickname, but the small pull at the corner of his lip gave away that he wasn’t entirely mad at it. “Shut up,” he murmured, grabbing your arm gently to lead you to the running tap. Sticking the deeper cuts under the cool water, you winced slightly at the biting pain. Soon enough, however, it became rather numb and you relaxed. After a couple minutes of rinsing it out, you sat back down as he gently soaked a gauze with what looked to be some sort of saline solution. You used peroxide generally, but you didn’t want to question what he was doing.

As he began dabbing the wounds and cleaning them out more, utterly hyper-focused on that, you were surprised when he actually started to chat. “I worry about you, you know,” he mumbled, his eyes still fixated on your arm.

A guilty feeling immediately started eating away at your stomach. You were the last thing Eddie should worry about. Honestly, you worried about him more than anything else. “Eddie, It’s fine,” you quietly said, looking down at your lap awkwardly. “No. It’s not. You can rely on us too, you know? You didn’t even let any of us know what was going on. We could have helped you,” he stated so softly that you almost missed his added whisper of, “I could have helped you.”  

“Hey,” you said, grabbing his hand to stop his now absentminded cleaning of your arm, “look at me.” Tilting his gaze slightly up to meet your eyes, you finally saw the hurt written all over his face. No, no, no, no. “Eddie, you are helping me,” you smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I promise I won’t do it again.”

Giving you a weak smile back, you gave him a wide grin in return and moved your head down to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“I love you, Eds,” you stated, leaning back slightly to gauge his reaction as he blushed once more. He gave a soft-hearted laugh, replying, “I would say I love you too, but your bloody nose is kind of grossing me out.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned, leaning your head back until it hit the back wall, bringing your sleeve back to your once again bleeding nose.

-- general tags: @this-cute-shit-xo @sweet-witchs-blog @multi-parker @stan-the-losers-club-man @hummingstan @babylovereddie @ubertrashmouth @derrysdenbrough @socially-awkward-nerd @emmaamalie @catching-fire-in-the-wind @humblehanlon @noodleboyuris

[bevioletskies]

everybody wants to rule the world [5/8]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

summary: peter is the one and only heir to the celestial throne. gamora is expected to successfully lead the titans to conquer the galaxy. a political alliance is in the works, and there may or may not be wedding bells in the air.

alternately: peter and gamora find themselves in an arranged marriage and want nothing to do with it, but might need each other more than they think if they want to escape their genocidal fathers forever.

word count: 11.2k

a/n: warning for creepy/abusive behavior from both thanos and ego towards their respective children throughout the entire fic. also note that this AU is very heavily based on the MCU versions of themselves, where things are basically only different because yondu took peter to ego after all.

fic title is from the song everybody wants to rule the world by tears for fears.

help me to decide...help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure...

ao3 | tag

To Gamora’s surprise (and relief), Ego had, for once, not been exaggerating when he proclaimed she had become something of a hero. Word spread quickly across the galaxy of the new Celestial princess and how she had saved everyone’s lives - especially that of her new husband’s. Leaders and common folk alike were practically singing her praises for how she handled the Kree invasion, not that she remembered much. The rest of the wedding night was a blur - even with her accelerated healing, blood loss was still blood loss - and she spent the next few days on bedrest, letting her body modifications do most of the work.

Unfortunately, the gash in her leg wasn’t the only injury she’d sustained, also having a sprained ankle, a couple cracked ribs, and bruises that made every muscle twitch and every cough burn like wildfire, but it was hardly the worst she’d ever experienced. In fact, she would almost consider them a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things, if not for the other consequences of her injuries, such as -

“I’m perfectly capable of getting my own meals, Quill, it’s only a limp,” Gamora groaned as her bedroom doors swung open to reveal, for the fourth time that week, Peter, whistling cheerfully as he brought in a serving tray laden with food. The guard standing by looked like he was trying not to laugh at her plight.

“Morning to you, too,” Peter chirped, sitting by her feet. Rolling her eyes, she still turned over so he could place the tray on her lap. “Look, you said you wanted to stick to your super healthy diet, but that doesn’t mean I have to, so they have to prepare this separately. Really, this is just me bringing the chef’s personalized meals so they don’t have to come to you, and you don’t have to go to them. I’m doing you both a favor.”

“And gracing me with your presence at the same time,” she drawled.

He grinned. “Exactly! Wait, are you being sarcastic again? Because I can’t tell sometimes.”

She swatted at him with her book before picking up her fork. “What’s on the agenda today? Were you at breakfast with the others?” Peter looked at her, suspiciously doe-eyed, before she got the message. She let out an annoyed huff, pushing the tray towards him. “For someone who claims to not want to eat the same food as me, you’re very insistent on stealing it.”

“Food tastes better when it belongs to someone else,” he said defensively through a mouthful of grits. He began coughing. “Oh, never mind, what is this, soy? Ew.” Wrinkling her nose, Gamora leaned forward to slowly push his jaw closed. The sight of Peter chewing did wonders for killing her appetite. “Nah, nothing’s going on today. Dad’s doing his usual thing, which is who knows what, and Mantis is at that school-opening ceremony in the capital. You got any ideas?”

“I’m still confined to this bed for another couple days,” she said forlornly. “I’d get up and walk out right now if it wasn’t for your doctors. I swear I’m fine, but they’re acting like I’ll keel over the second I’m on my feet.”

“You wanna hang out with me, then? I could keep you company.” Peter tilted his head sideways in what she supposed was meant to look endearing. Personally, she thought he looked like he had a neck injury. “I could bring you more books. Or we could talk strategy, not that there’s really anything left to plan, I mean, you were super thorough in those meetings we had. Or maybe a holoscreen! We can watch a movie, I found a bunch of Terran videotapes at one of the Nova trading posts…” He trailed off when he noticed she wasn’t responding, looking at her expectantly.

Oddly enough, the incident at the wedding had brought them closer, despite the confusing conversation - or more accurately, confrontation - they had moments beforehand. After she had woken from her medical treatment, Peter remained by her bedside, both to apologize profusely for his childish behavior and to proclaim her status as the “kingdom’s resident badass”. Gamora, of course, had accepted, knowing he only meant well, and apologized in return for being evasive - he had a point; she couldn’t expect him to trust her if she wasn’t going to be straightforward herself. Ever since then, things were surprisingly smooth. No confrontations, no accusations, no secrets. She had even told him about Thanos’s order for her to seduce him.

“Seriously? What is this, a movie?” Peter had chuckled. “And, what, it ends with you having fallen in love with me for real, but me thinking you’re lying when you say so because you were lying the whole time, and I don’t know if I love you or just the fake you, and it’s all a bi-i-ig misunderstanding - yeah, I’ve seen this before.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, but I also find the idea of me being in love with you laughable,” Gamora had retorted.

“I’ll have you know that I’m super lovable. Just ask anyone. Literally, you could fly into any city on this planet, ask some random stranger - ” If Gamora hadn’t been so comfortable under her bedsheets at the time, she would’ve been tempted to sit up just so she could smack him on the shoulder.

Now, she stared back, wondering how she could possibly pass the time. Peter was right - everything they needed for the inevitable “pseudo-revolution”, as he liked to call it, was ready to go at moment’s notice. She also couldn’t exactly get up and walk out, what with the guards following the doctor’s orders to keep her confined. “If you spend all day in my room,” she said slowly, “do you think your father will interpret it as your newfound devotion to me, and mention it to my father? Keep him placated?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like we’re a bunch of schoolkids passin’ notes,” Peter laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Oh, sure,” she relented, cracking a gentle smile. “I’ll go stir-crazy in here otherwise. But if you make so much as one bad joke, I’m sending for Nebula to keep me company instead.”

“No bad jokes here.” He exaggeratedly puffed out his chest, chin held high. “I’m hilarious.”

“You’ve already done it. Get out,” she deadpanned, taking a long sip of her drink.

“Too late! I’ve claimed a pillow.” He threw himself down on top of the duvet, staring up at the underside of the canopy hanging over them. “Y’know, this bed’s never been used for sleeping.”

“What else would it - oh, Quill,” Gamora groaned, recoiling. “You’re disgusting. And your actual bedroom is just one door away, why didn’t you use that instead?”

“Privacy reasons,” Peter said defensively. “No one gets to be in there but me and my family. And oh man, if you think that’s gross - and it’s not, it’s totally normal - never use a blacklight on the Milano. Looks like a Jackson Pollock painting in there.” She blinked. “He’s like an artist...guy. I, uh - yeah.”

“Is it too late for me to move back into the guest quarters?” she sighed.

Despite herself, Gamora spent most of her recovery in Peter’s company, with occasional visits from her people (Peter was always mysteriously absent whenever Nebula was around). Though she was much more used to them, they were rather macabre in comparison to Peter’s cheerfulness. She didn’t exactly want to deal with Nebula’s attitude or Drax and Rocket’s squabbling when she was so lethargic from being stuck in bed. Peter was quite adept at entertaining her, telling her stories about his Terran childhood or creating random objects out of thin air for fun. It was a good distraction for an otherwise droll recovery.

Once the doctors finally let her go, she was back to her training regimen, pleasantly surprised to find Peter hadn’t slacked in her absence. Apparently, he had gone to Drax and requested his help (“Big mistake - I can’t count all the times he accidentally dislocated my shoulder”), and trained with him for at least an hour per day.

“Discipline,” Gamora echoed, smiling. “Good to see that we’re making progress in more ways than one.”

He managed to disarm her a few times on their first day back, practically knocking the wind out of her as he slammed her down into the mat. He was sharper, quicker, more precise than before - though admittedly, the one that had gotten her the most was where he was up to his usual tricks.

“Shit - I think you broke my nose - ”

“Hold still, let me see - ow - ” Gamora was flat on her back, Peter straddling her with a triumphant grin on his face, his nose completely untouched. She stared up at him, unimpressed. “Are you trying to crack my ribs again?”

“I’m sorry, I thought this was supposed to be serious, disciplined, combat pra - OW!” Now he was bleeding. A couple drops ended up on Gamora’s shirt, but as far as she was concerned? Worth it. “Okay, I deserved that one.”

As glad as she was to be back on her feet, they soon settled into something a bit too routine even for her liking. Gamora would wake early, have breakfast alone in her room, then train with Drax and Nebula before being joined by Peter. After their one-on-one session, she would shower and spend the rest of her day either reading, studying up on the kingdom’s history and policies (Yondu had been a great help in that regard), or in the company of her people. Dinner was always in the dining hall, where she and Peter mostly chatted with each other about nonsensical topics in order to satiate Ego’s little domestic fantasy. Evenings, once again, were either spent alone, or, increasingly more often, with Peter.

He had taken to sprawling himself across her bed after dinner, sleepily satisfied from the food and looking for a peaceful way to close out the night before eventually returning to his own room. Gamora wasn’t sure what to make of it at first - was this what friends did? - but after the first post-wedding month had passed, she came to expect him on a regular basis, even finding herself disappointed whenever he was absent.

One particular evening, Gamora walked into her bedroom to find Peter already there, looking more downtrodden than usual, clutching his Walkman over his chest. She could hear faint strains of a song playing through his headphones.

Everybody plays the fool sometime...there's no exception to the rule...listen, baby, it may be factual, may be cruel...I ain't lyin', everybody plays the fool...

“Something wrong?” she asked, disappearing into the wardrobe to change.

“I had a fight with Mantis,” Peter grumbled, pushing his headphones away from his ears.

Gamora paused before quickly changing into her sleepclothes and walking back out, staring at him in disbelief. “What? When? You seemed fine at dinner.”

“Yeah, only for Dad’s sake,” he sighed, settling into the pillows. “She’s just been actin’ real weird lately, so this morning after breakfast, I asked her what was up. I dunno, I thought she was stressing out over the plans or something. Changing her mind.”

“And she didn’t tell you anything, did she,” Gamora guessed, joining him on the bed.

“Not a word,” he replied. “I pushed a little harder, and maybe I shouldn’t have, but...I worry about her sometimes. I try not to baby her, but it’s hard when Dad still does it, y’know? And she doesn’t really have friends, other than the local kids. Sometimes I do weekend trips off-planet to have some fun, and whenever I invite her, she always says Dad’s got stuff for her to do. Don’t make any sense, considering he never has stuff for us to do. Ever.”

Gamora pursed her lips in consideration. “Have you ever looked into it? Maybe it’s related to that thing she wouldn’t tell us about at the wedding.”

He shook his head. “She’s always gone and done her own thing, and I usually leave it alone, but it’s like...it’s like ever since we started this whole plan, she’s got more to hide from me. We grew up together...spent so much time together. But now it’s like she isn’t around anymore. And I don’t know what I did wrong.” He lifted his head to meet her gaze, half-expecting her to make a crack about how he was always wrong. Instead, there was a sense of sadness reflected in her dark eyes.

Falling in love is such an easy thing to do...and there's no guarantee that the one you love...is gonna love you….

“Well, if I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that keeping secrets only makes it worse in the end,” Gamora said softly. “She’ll come around to you, Quill. You’re much too close to let this get in the way of your relationship.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks. And I hope you’re right.” Clearing his throat, he straightened up. “Hey, so, I was gonna ask you for a favor - ”

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“It is, I promise. I was thinking, we’ve been sitting on our asses for almost two months now, waiting for Thanos to show. Meanwhile, he keeps insisting - ”

“ - not until your father starts showing signs of desperation, I know, I was there for all of those awful weekly calls,” Gamora shuddered. “What’s your point?”

“Maybe we gotta get it going ourselves, and get you some good publicity at the same time,” he suggested. “You’re stressed out about what might happen after we - y’know - if you’re just gonna get shoved into jail forever and never be free again. I say, we go pay Xandar a visit, show off a little and do an event or something. Maybe hang around the Nova Corps so Nova Prime keeps you in her good books. It’ll boost your reputation and make Dad all stressed out.”

“That’s...actually a pretty decent idea. And much better than sulking around here forever,” Gamora agreed, nodding slowly.

“See? I’m totally a genius.” Peter pumped his fist in the air triumphantly.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she shot back. “But let’s do it. Are we bringing the others?”

“Might get me and Mantis back on the same page. So, yeah. Let Dad stew all alone for a few days. It’ll be fun!” ______

Once the Milano had settled in, cruising along smoothly through space like they had all the time in the world, Peter shooed Rocket and Yondu away, telling them he would join them and the others in a few minutes for breakfast. It was an early Sunday morning, and they were en route to Xandar to meet with Nova Prime. Their public personas would have to be on display for the entire trip, but Peter was confident by now that the others would be able to handle the pressure.

He leaned back in his seat, staring out into the cosmos in an almost dream-like state as he thought about what had transpired over the last little while, ever since the wedding. Some good, some bad - Mantis becoming increasingly distant, definitely bad. He liked the camaraderie of his new friendships (okay, friendship, singular, with Gamora), but he also missed the old days of just him and his sister. They were such opposites in so many ways, but it was what made their bond so strong. Now, she barely talked to him for more than five minutes before excusing herself to go do something else. And Ego, he was a tough one to crack as well, not that that was anything new. Peter considered confronting him about Korath, but what he could he possibly say? Gamora was almost certain Korath had been hired by Ego to go after Peter as a publicity stunt, but Peter wasn’t so sure himself - in what world did Ego think he could trust the Kree to not actually hurt him, especially one that worked for Thanos? He was lucky Gamora had been there to save him, to fight back in ways that no one else would.

Gamora. Peter smiled to himself, almost giddy. He couldn’t help it. Thinking about her made him happy. She’d been coming out of her shell very slowly, allowing herself to laugh more often, to sleep in longer and take bigger portions of food, to tease him and talk with him for hours at a time. She wasn’t quite the harsh, militant, no-nonsense girl he had met two months ago. Sure, she was every bit as confident and disciplined as ever, but the tension in her shoulders had all but vanished, the formality of her vocabulary loosened. She was still confused by his Terran references and became easily irritated by his antics, but there was a gentleness to her that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it had been all along, and she was only letting it show now.

“Quill, are you daydreaming up here?” He nearly fell out of his seat at the sound of her voice. “Breakfast was ready ten minutes ago, your food’s going to go cold if you don’t come down.”

“I know, I was just...looking.” He gestured towards the glass. “It’s real nice, getting to see space like this. And not to be a big Terran cliche, but I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid. And now, here I am. Peter Quill, next-level astronaut.”

“I’ve only seen glimpses of it, if I ever cared to look out the window.” Gamora took measured steps forward, her hands coming to rest on the back of his chair. “I didn’t exactly take the time to stop and observe. I had a job to do.”

“Do you want to someday?” he asked. “Get out there and explore?”

“It’s a nice thought, I suppose,” she agreed. “Where I lived, on Sanctuary, it wasn’t exactly a haven. And everywhere else I’ve been for more than a day was either a safehouse or a jail cell.”

“What if...what if that’s what we did, after all this?” Peter lifted his head to look at her. Her gaze was firmly cast outwards, among the stars. “Go on an epic adventure.”

She looked back at him. “Where?”

“Everywhere. Wherever you want.” He gestured wildly, arms spread wide. “I’ve only ever gone to planets that I can reach within a couple days, but imagine where we could go if we had our whole lives ahead of us!”

Gamora smiled sadly. “It’s a nice thought,” she repeated, turning and walking away. “Breakfast, Quill. Come on.”

They touched down in Xandar by the late afternoon. It was already getting dark, but still, Gamora found herself silently admiring her surroundings as she made her way down the landing ramp. Xandar was the complete opposite of Ego’s planet; modern, slick - stylish, even. There was something strange about being in a new place without having to immediately hide or establish a cover, and it left her feeling somewhat exposed. The rest of her people looked just as uncomfortable as she felt, especially as Nova Prime approached the landing pad in her usual brisk stride, flanked by two Nova officers.

“Good to see you again, your highnesses,” she said, shaking their hands firmly. “I hope you had a comfortable flight. You have a very...unique-looking ship there, Prince Peter.”

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Peter beamed, turning to admire the Milano briefly before looking back to Nova Prime. “I’d love to hear what you have in store for us, ma’am.”

“Why don’t we get you all settled in first?” she suggested. “Denarian Dey and Denarian Saal will escort you to your rooms. We’ll have dinner in my suite at eight and discuss everything then.”

The Nova officers led them into an elevator and then through a series of winding hallways, providing them with specialized access passes that would allow them into the common area of Nova Prime’s private floor, but keep them away from the work floors. Denarian Saal eyed Rocket pointedly as he mentioned the weapon laboratories (clearly, there was a story there that Peter was itching to know more about). Gamora was dismayed to find out that she and Peter would be sharing a room.

“At least it’s two beds,” Peter pointed out as he lugged his bag onto one of them. “There, we’ve avoided another cliche.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Quill,” Gamora sighed. She debated whether to unpack at all, considering they were only here for a few days. If something went wrong, if she needed to make a quick getaway, having to throw everything back into her bag would only slow her down. She then dropped her bag unceremoniously on the floor, by the nightstand. “Did you see the way Denarian Saal was eyeing me and my people? And he thinks we’re uncivilized.”

“What do you mean?” He flopped onto the bed with a satisfied exhale.

“You may be innocent at the moment, Quill, but we’re already criminals, remember? And now, here we are, with access to Nova Prime’s private rooms. He probably suspects we’re here to make an attempt on her life, or at least, commit some sort of petty crime. He’ll sweep our rooms when we’re not here to make sure we haven’t stolen anything. Scan hours of security footage to ensure we never went anywhere we weren’t supposed to be.” She shrugged. “It’s how everyone acts around us.”

“Well, hopefully, after this week, he’ll change his mind. Hopefully everyone changes their minds.” Peter sat up, his back against the headboard. “That’s the whole point of this trip! And you saved my life, that wasn’t nothing. People believe you’re one of the good guys. Now they just have to like you as a person, too.”

“Being likable is such an overrated quality,” she complained, sitting at the foot of her own bed. “It’s only ever people who are already liked who think it’s important, because they already have it. But if you’re unloved, unwanted...the desire to be liked can turn into desperation very quickly.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “You said once that my people look at me like I’m a hero, instead of some all-knowing master. You’d rather be the master?”

She shook her head, staring intently at the floor. “I’d rather not be anything to anyone at all if it means I’ll finally be left alone.”

Peter fell silent, mulling it over. “Y’know, if...if I was being too pushy earlier, about going on, like, adventures together after this, I didn’t mean to. You don’t have to stick around. It’s your life. It’d be fun, but...I understand if you just wanna leave. Even I annoy myself sometimes,” he added jokingly.

“Now you know why I don’t bother with friendships, or even alliances. It creates obligations,” Gamora chuckled softly. “I don’t like loose ends, unanswered questions. And relying on intuition...it’s just not me.” At his frustrated expression, she quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he said, waving her off.

“Quill, you can’t lecture me about keeping secrets and then - ”

“It’s not a secret, I just - I don’t think you wanna hear it.” He relented once she glared him into submission. “Fine, fine. I just wish you’d gotten your childhood back somehow. Then maybe, you’d have dreams like the rest of us, instead of thinking about worst-case scenarios all the time. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good that you do that stuff, but...I dunno.”

“So I was forced to grow up fast. That’s not exactly unique. You had to do the same thing,” Gamora pointed out.

“Yeah, but I live in a big fancy palace with tons of people lookin’ after me. You had to deal with so much crap, Gamora, all on your own sometimes, and I don’t know how you did it and still came out...normal. Sane.” He shuffled a bit closer, his knees swinging around the side of his bed so he could properly face her.

“Sanity is subjective,” she reminded him. Peter laughed, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in something of a half-smile. She found she liked the sound of it - his real laugh, not that odd, forced sound that escaped him whenever he was with his father or in the company of people who knew nothing about him. She wanted to make him laugh more. “I dream of being able to choose my own future, I guess. Do more than just survive. Beyond that, I have no real big ambitions.”

Before Peter could reply, a harsh knock-knock-knock cut through, followed by “Hey, idiots! Do ya check your messages or what? Nova Prime’s callin’ us up to her place, like, right now!” Gamora glanced briefly at her communication device, startled to realize it was already 7:45.

“Give us a minute to change, Rocket,” she called back, yanking out clothes from her bag at random before slipping into the bathroom without a second glance. Still, Peter smiled to himself before reaching for his own. ______

Gamora was grateful to find that Nova Prime, for the most part, steered clear of addressing her alone, considering they were yet to have a conversation in which Gamora didn’t run off. Rocket was a little ruder than Gamora would have liked, and Drax’s blunt nature made the Nova guards twitch, but at least Nebula stuck to her promise to be seen and not heard for the entire meal.

“I was surprised when you reached out to me, Prince Peter,” Nova Prime admitted by the time dessert came around. “Especially so soon after the wedding. I figured your sister would have come alone, since she’s been handling all of your interplanetary affairs lately.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Peter said, glancing over at Mantis. She seemed very invested in her pudding all of a sudden. “What affairs?”

“The...outreach center,” Nova Prime replied slowly, furrowing her brow. “Have you not been...you haven’t, have you?”

“I was going to surprise Peter with the news today, Nova Prime, do not worry that you have overstepped,” Mantis said reassuringly, finally lifting her head so she could address Peter. “We have been talking for a while now about setting up an outreach center that will help reformed criminals prepare for rehabilitation on our planet. Most are still unaware of what we do, but Xandar has one of the biggest holding centers in the galaxy. If we partner with the Nova Corps to provide them with a second chance - food, shelter, healthcare, education - they will be prepared to join us on Ego and expand our population.”

“I wasn’t aware we were lookin’ to expand,” Peter frowned. “Does Dad know about this?”

“Of course he does!” Mantis exclaimed. “He provided the funding and set one of his advisors to task in assisting me. But this is mostly my project.” She was practically glowing with pride. Still, both Peter and Gamora couldn’t help but be a little wary. Where was this coming from?

“And why wasn’t I in on this?” Peter demanded, leaning across the table. Nova Prime glanced briefly between the siblings in worry.

“The opening ceremony is tomorrow morning, your highnesses,” she interrupted a little louder than necessary. “I was originally expecting Princess Mantis by herself, but now that you’re all here, well, we might as well proceed with everyone. You can give a few speeches, explain the rehabilitation program and its relation to your planet’s social work system. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you would like afterward, but if you’re interested in good publicity, I’d recommend spending your time here volunteering to help.”

“And by all of us, that includes my subjects as well,” Gamora said. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Peter, who looked significantly more irritated than he had been five minutes ago. Sometimes, it seemed like his temper was worse than hers. “My people are non-negotiable.”

“Yes, of course,” Nova Prime promised. Groot looked pleased at being included. The others were scowling at Gamora as if she committed a great offense. “You are all distinguished guests of mine, Princess. We’ll have extra security for everyone’s protection, given what happened at your last public event.”

The moment dinner ended, Mantis practically flew right out the door in a hurry. Peter ran after her before Gamora could intervene, grabbing Mantis by the arm and pulling her aside, next to the elevator. “Really? An outreach center. When you know that we’re...you know, what’s about to happen,” he said quickly, furiously, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What’s this all about?”

“I just wanted to be of use for once,” Mantis replied evenly, her eyes darting sideways as the others entered the hallway. “Prove that I am not just a sleeping pill for Father, or a playmate for the brave, powerful prince.”

Peter blanched like he’d been hit. “What’s that s’posed to mean? And where is this coming from, Mantis? Did Dad say something to you?”

They were interrupted by the quiet ding of the elevator, its doors sliding open to invite them back to their rooms. Everyone filed in, Mantis immediately retreating into the furthest corner. Gamora slid neatly between the Celestial siblings, glaring at Peter in warning. To her surprise, it seemed to have no effect. “This was not his idea, if that is what you are thinking. Why have you been so suspicious of me lately?”

“Because you’re actin’ suspicious!” Peter exclaimed. He took another step forward, but Yondu reached over to clap him on the shoulder firmly, yanking him back.

“Quill, c’mon. Don’t fight now,” Yondu warned. “You been drinkin’ too much tonight, ain’t you?”

“And you, you know somethin’ I don’t, don’t you?” Peter snapped, shoving Yondu away. Yondu’s shoulder banged into the elevator wall with an unceremonious echo, causing the entire carriage to rattle precariously. Mantis let out a quiet gasp of surprise.

Yondu straightened his coat lapels, his eyes harder than they had been before. “You’re gettin’ paranoid, boy. I suggest you keep your hands to yourself,” he said cooly, jabbing a finger into Peter’s chest. “And you show your sister some respect. Don’t make me ask again.”

Before Peter could retaliate, Gamora grabbed Peter’s arm, pulling him away. “Quill.” He turned to look at her, his eyes colder than she’d ever seen. “Let’s go to the roof. You need air.” The others exchanged dubious looks before silently stepping out onto the guest floor, leaving Peter and Gamora behind.

“What if Mantis is turning her back on us?” Peter demanded once the doors had closed. “She could’ve been feedin’ Dad information on everything we’ve been doing this whole damn time, settin’ up this ‘outreach center’ so he can have his own personal army of criminals.”

“Get some air, Quill,” Gamora repeated, sighing. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

Upon reaching the rooftop level, they found a quiet spot away from the hum of the generators, settling down onto the gravel and staring out into the pitch black of the Xandarian night sky. Despite the fury that was practically radiating off Peter, he leaned into Gamora somewhat, their knees and shoulders brushing. Though she could smell the alcohol on his breath, his eyes were focused, his speech clear. No, he wasn’t exactly drunk. It was something else. “Look, Quill, you and I, we’ve had our fair share of fights. And from what I can tell, you like people, but you have trouble trusting them sometimes. Don’t let your anger towards your father become anger towards everyone else. I know what that’s like, and it doesn’t get you anywhere.”

“So, what, you don’t think Mantis is being weird?” Peter’s voice was quieter than before, almost sobering. “Even you think I’m crazy.”

“No, actually, I think you’re onto something,” Gamora replied. “And I want to question her, badly, same as you. But it’s late. We’re tired, and stressed. You think yelling at her in front of everyone else will get the job done? It’ll be direct, sure, but it won’t be effective.”

“And you’re all about results,” he snarked, though he seemed to regret it the second it left his mouth. He hugged his knees into his chest, blinking slowly into the darkness. Gamora’s clothes and hair were so dark, he could barely see her, save for the slight silvery glint of the metal in her skin. He had never asked her about it, but he hoped he would be able to someday. “What do we do?”

“If it’ll ease your mind - and your temper - I’ll keep a closer eye on her,” she promised. “Maybe she’s been conning us the whole time. Or maybe she’s just withholding information out of ignorance, and not contempt. We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, maybe try to not be so hostile?”

“Gotta say, never thought I’d hear you of all people give me that advice,” he laughed. “And thanks. For helping me outta there tonight. I owe you, again.”

“A working relationship isn’t a business deal, Quill.” Gamora gave him a reassuring smile. “We owe each other nothing.”

“Friendship,” Peter corrected, grinning. “And right, no obligations, got it. Can we head back now? It’s so freaking cold up here.” ______

After an unceremoniously brief breakfast in their own rooms - Peter spent most of it pestering Gamora on how to speak to the media, to which she retorted that he didn’t exactly have that much experience, either - they all piled into one of the Nova-issued secured vehicles, with two more boxing them in for safety. The short drive to the outreach center was filled with mundane conversation, mostly prompted by Nova Prime, while Peter and Mantis seemed to be trying their best not to make eye contact. Everyone felt horribly uncomfortable by the time they stepped outside.

“And I thought I looked ready to kill,” Gamora murmured as she looped her arm with Peter’s. There was a steady crowd of photographers and media already forming by the entrance, especially eager to catch photos or get quotes from the newlyweds who hadn’t been seen or heard from since the wedding. “I also thought our talk last night would’ve taught you something. Seems like I was wrong.”

“Prince Peter! Princess Gamora!” One of the reporters squeezed their way through to the front, sticking his recording device right under Gamora’s nose. She blanched before straightening, trying her best not to look so disappointed. “How have you been, your highnesses? Are you well, princess? We heard you were on bedrest - are you already pregnant?”

“I was stabbed - ” “Hey, hey, no one’s pregnant - oh god, are people saying she’s pregnant? - ”

“But there are plans for children in the future, yes?” another reporter prompted.

“Guys, guys, c’mon, our visit today is about the outreach center. It’s not about me and Gamora,” Peter laughed somewhat uncomfortably. “We’re lookin’ at how we can improve our policies and resource allocation, rehabilitate people who deserve a second chance. We’re not thinkin’ about babies.”

“But if you don’t continue the family line, the Celestial legacy dies with you, your highness,” the second one said snidely.

Gamora scowled. “And that’s none of our concern right now, thank you,” she shot back cooly. “Now will you let us pass? We have a job to do.” Peter wasn’t sure whether to wince or laugh as Gamora practically dragged him to the doors and nearly knocked the reporters over in the process, where everyone else was standing, watching them bemusedly.

In many ways, the opening ceremony was reminiscent of all the things Gamora had hated most about their wedding - the pomp and circumstance, the empty words, the stiff, insincere smiles that left her cheeks aching for relief. But there was a genuine happiness that positively radiated off Mantis once she began addressing the crowd. She had clearly found her calling, her passion. Once more, there was an explosion of sound and movement as everyone clapped and cheered at the very end, Peter reaching around Gamora so he could squeeze Mantis’s shoulder in congratulations. She smiled tightly at him before turning back to the cameras.

Afterward, they did an open tour of the facility, guided mostly by Mantis and Nova Prime. Gamora found herself genuinely interested in what they had to say. She had seen her fair share of criminals who had been led astray through no fault of their own, herself included, and a place like this could very well work miracles for them.

“Hey, I could give you a tour of the city if you’d like.” Gamora turned, not realizing Peter was right behind her, his fingers ever-so-slightly brushing her waist in an attempt to stay nearby. The event was over, and everyone was filing out of the building neatly, chatting to themselves and bowing as they passed the royal family members. “Not like we’ve got anything else to do today.” Raising an eyebrow, Gamora gestured wordlessly to Mantis nearby, who looked unsure of what to do next. “Oh, right - hey, Mantis! You, me, Gamora, the city? You wanna come?”

“I suppose,” Mantis said quietly. “I will have to check with Yondu.” Peter looked at Gamora pleadingly as his sister began walking away. Gamora rolled her eyes in disbelief - really, this was the extent of his effort? - before jogging after the other girl.

“I could use another tour guide. Your brother isn’t very observant, after all,” Gamora added, looking over at Peter with a smirk. He seemed half-offended, half-agreeable. “Either that, or you’ll be returning to Nova headquarters, where you’ll likely spend the rest of your day in the company of my people. I’m sure they would love to have you.”

Mantis looked disturbed by the prospect. “A tour sounds like a great idea!” Mantis said quickly. “Where shall we start, Peter? What do you think Gamora would like?”

He hummed thoughtfully, reaching for Gamora’s hand when he realized the nearby photographers were still snapping away, watching them, waiting for them to do something interesting. “Why don’t we start with a bookstore?” ______

“You and Peter get along much better than I would have expected,” Mantis admitted several hours later. The three of them were sat in a quaint homestyle restaurant, watched closely by Yondu, who was sat by himself a few tables away. Peter had disappeared to the bathroom after they had finished eating, leaving the girls by themselves. “I do not need my powers to see that you enjoy each other’s company.”

“Is this what we’re going to talk about while he’s gone? How gauche.” Gamora sipped her water. “He worries about you, Mantis. I doubt that’s news to you, but he does. You’ve been acting strange lately, and the fact that I can tell when I hardly know you is a testament to your odd behavior. He may have been rash last night, but he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

“He no longer trusts me. He thinks I mean to turn against him because I have been spending time with Father,” Mantis whispered. “It...it hurts. Knowing that after everything we have done together, he would still think so little of me.”

“Quill thinks the world of you,” Gamora insisted. “That’s why this weighs so heavily on him. And it’s no secret that Quill and I only get along about half of the time. But we know we can trust each other. And you both think you’ve lost that. All we ask is that you tell the truth.”

Mantis couldn’t help but grin, something rather awkward, yet endearing. “You and Peter have become a ‘we’, haven’t you?” she said slyly. “Are you not a little curious about what he thinks when you are around?”

“He’s almost too easy to read, so no, I don’t. And don’t change the subject,” Gamora said sternly.

“I am not, I just know he will be coming back soon, and - do you really not want to know?” Mantis blinked innocently.

“We are not having this discussion, not now, not ever - ”

“Discussion? What’d I miss?” Peter seemingly popped up out of nowhere, leaning against the back of Gamora’s chair with an easy smile.

“Mantis wanted to tell me stories of your shared adolescence, but I think it’s time we address some of our interpersonal issues instead,” Gamora lied easily, gesturing for him to take a seat. Peter obeyed, though he looked very much like he was regretting having returned to the table. “Your relationship with each other really isn’t my business. But clearly, you have unresolved issues, and I have no interest in letting anyone’s emotions get in the way of our plans. So either deal with it like adults and drop the issue, or talk it out like adults and solve it. We are not leaving until this is behind us, and there are no other choices.”

“Of course you’re giving an ultimatum,” Peter muttered under his breath, ignoring the dirty look Gamora sent his way. “Right, um, Mantis. Do you feel like...like you wanna back out?”

“No, not at all!” Mantis exclaimed. “You see how Father treats me. I mean so little to him compared to you. I had...I had absolutely no one until Yondu brought you home. You remember what I was like.”

“You were scared, like, all the time. You didn’t know how to read or write, ‘cause Dad didn’t think it was important.” Peter shook his head, disgusted at the memory. “And you were confused the first time I tried to hug you.”

“I thought you were going to strangle me.” Mantis let out a tiny, awful laugh. “I thought I had started to trust someone who wanted to hurt me instead. That I was stupid for thinking I could.” She glanced at Gamora, whose eyes were suspiciously glossy. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest. “This was probably not what you wanted us to talk about, was it?”

“No, this is...it’s good.” Gamora swallowed, clearing her throat harshly. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Maybe you and I aren’t as different as I first thought.”

Mantis smiled weakly in return. “I know what everyone thinks of me,” she replied. “Quiet, sweet, naive Mantis. She feels feelings, she helps people sleep. She is not very clever, or brave, or interesting. She just...is.”

“Mantis - ” Peter protested.

“I’m guilty of thinking those exact things when I first arrived,” Gamora interrupted. “And I also worried about what your powers would mean for my privacy. I trust you now. At least, enough to get this done. But that trust won’t last if you continue to evade us.”

“I would not betray your privacy,” Mantis frowned. “And I would not go out of my way to hurt you. Either of you.”

“Then where do you go when you say Dad’s got a job for you?” Peter asked, beginning to grow impatient. “All those times where I ask you if you wanna hang out, and you’re busy. Sometimes you’re both gone for days, Mantis. Where do you go?”

Mantis remained silent for a moment, staring into the candle flickering in the middle of the table. The warm yellow light cast an eerie, almost sickly glow over her face, illuminating her enormous, dark eyes. “The only secret I can tell you,” she said quietly, “is that there is a secret that Father and I share. And it is something you must never know about, or it will kill you.”

“Wait, literally?” Peter leaned towards her in concern. “Mantis...what has he got you doing?”

“Please,” Mantis pleaded, trembling. “I can see that it is frustrating you. And I hate not being able to tell you what it is. But if you still trust me at all, you will not ask me about it again.” She smiled weakly. “You are such a good brother to me, Peter. And you have always been so protective. So let me protect you for once.”

Peter looked over at Gamora then, who was watching Mantis carefully, her brow furrowed in contemplation. She was still so new to the Celestial siblings’ dynamic, knew far more about Peter than she did about Mantis, and there was still so much left to learn about them both. And yet, for someone who had been raised in such a barbaric, animalistic environment, she did indeed seem far more “sane” than Peter would have ever guessed her to be. He still remembered when she first arrived - practically stomping into the throne room, decked out in full armor, her mere presence demanding to be seen and heard. Her reputation preceded her, making him almost certain his future wife was going to be, at best, cold, calculating, devoid of feeling. And maybe she had started that way, or at least, appeared that way. But now?

“I believe her, Quill,” Gamora murmured quietly, leaning back in her seat. “What she said sounds ominous, but it also sounds true. Your father seems like the kind of man who would coerce his own child into carrying out his immoral deeds. This isn’t Mantis’s choice. This is his doing.” She turned to the other girl. “If we follow through with the plan...will it free you from his secret? Will you tell us everything that he’s done, so we can undo it and make things right?”

“Undoing what we have done will be impossible,” Mantis murmured. “But yes. It will, and I will.”

Gamora nodded sharply, a smirk beginning to form. “Good. Not that we needed another reason to take him out, but I suppose we’ll all sleep better at night, knowing you’ll be okay.”

Mantis smiled brightly in return. “Thank you, Gamora. I am very glad you are on our side. We would be forever stuck in our old ways, if not for your bravery.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Gamora scoffed, though she looked pleased.

“I mean it,” Mantis said firmly, patting Gamora briefly on the arm. It was a testament to Gamora’s newfound comfort that she didn’t immediately pull away. “I was uneasy about the idea at first. And I did not know what to think of you, either. But it is something we must do, not just for us, but for everyone in the entire galaxy. Neither of us would have ever thought to do so, but you did.” Gamora faltered a little, glancing off to the side. Before Peter could ask her about it, Mantis spoke again. “Also, I think Peter is very glad to have you around.”

Peter let out an undignified squawk. “What’re you tryna say?”

“Just that you are friends.” Mantis blinked innocently once more. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“Hah,” Peter said weakly. “Right.”

“So are all settled then? No more secrets, no more anger. We let nothing get in the way,” Gamora said, glancing between them.

“Yeah. And sorry that I lost my temper, Mantis,” Peter said gently. “For yellin’, for grabbin’ you...that wasn’t cool. I won’t do it again, I promise. I never wanna hurt you, ever.”

“And I am sorry for being so secretive.” Mantis reached across the table to grab Peter’s hands. “I want to tell you absolutely everything, but it is not safe. I should have just said that the first time you asked, instead of pushing you away. I could feel your distress, your anger, your sadness. I like you best when you are happy, Peter.”

“So do I,” he replied quietly.

They smiled at each other, relieved. Gamora couldn’t help but smile herself. “Are we ready to pay the bill?”

“Pay the - Gamora, we haven’t had dessert yet!” Peter exclaimed. Mantis squealed in delight, volunteering to flag down a waiter for the menu.

Sighing, Gamora slouched in her seat, unsure if she had the energy to keep up with their double act for the rest of the night. “Here we go.” ______

Mantis said something kinda weird to me before she left,” Peter said as he and Gamora returned to their hotel room. It was nearing midnight, and he was pleasantly tired, though there was an underlying fuzziness in his brain that he hadn’t quite been able to untangle since Mantis had spoken to him.

“What’s that?” Gamora kicked off her shoes, stretching luxuriously.

“That she thought you were one thing before today, and now she thinks you’re something else entirely.” Peter paused. “Then again, she’s been acting real cryptic all night. Maybe she just drank too much - ”

“She was having carbonated water, I highly doubt that affected her cognition,” Gamora snorted, though she couldn’t help but be curious as well. “Was that it?”

Peter flushed. “Yes,” he said quickly.

“Really?” Gamora deadpanned. “Your face says otherwise.”

Peter crossed the room quickly to stand by his bed, his back to her, heart pounding as he began undoing his tie. She thinks I like you. “C’mon, Gamora, Mantis and I might be back on track, but it don’t mean I understand everything she says and does.” She thinks I wish this was for real. “She hasn’t been around other people much, so getting to spend time with another girl - woman - is a good thing. And now she knows you're a friend. That’s probably what she meant.” She thinks I want you to stay. “She’s glad you’re here.”

I think she’s right. ______

Peter was sprawled across his bed, staring intently at the high ceiling with long, dangling lights that formed a geometric pattern his brain couldn’t comprehend at eight in the morning (or really, ever). He screwed his eyes shut in frustration. It was the last day of their Xandar trip, before they would have to return to a different kind of reality - one where his father ambled about, lurking like some affable, old-school Bond villain, where Gamora’s father sat comfortably in a stone throne millions of miles away, contemplating destruction like he was deciding what to have for breakfast, and where he and Gamora were friends with a marriage certificate and an expiry date.

“You seem very fascinated with the ceiling. Should I even ask?” His eyes flew open to see a fully-dressed Gamora standing over him, looking mildly amused. “Come on, Quill, we’ll miss the car if you don’t get ready right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting up.” He sat up slowly, watching her as she took a couple steps backward to give him space. “Hey, uh, thanks.”

“For what?”

“For dealing with all that stuff with me and Mantis. And all the other times you’ve, I dunno, helped me out.” Peter smiled at her, something soft, a little crooked, but entirely endearing. Gamora bit her lip to stop herself from smiling back. “Uh, not that it’s your job or anything, but...I’m glad you’re here. For me. With me? You know, like…” He trailed off awkwardly.

She paused before shaking her head and walking away. “Now who’s being cryptic? Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted half-heartedly at her retreating back.

All things considered, their days at the outreach center were going quite smoothly. Gamora worked in the back with her people, where they carried out odd jobs here and there, chatting amicably. It was busy work, but it was better than the kind of jobs they were usually given. Peter and Mantis were out at the very front of the building, greeting and subsequently charming everyone that walked through the door. It was what they were good at - the sunny smiles, the friendly small talk, things Gamora could only muster on her best day. She couldn’t help but eye the group of young women who swept into the building first thing every morning since they had opened, who insisted on practically swarming Peter, asking if she really existed. It made Gamora itch, though she wasn’t sure why.

“She’s real shy sometimes. Not really a people person,” Peter would say with a wry chuckle. “But she’s great! I’m glad I married her.” Gamora would then feel silly for eavesdropping in the first place, retreating quietly before Peter could notice.

Today, however, was a different story. Nova Prime briefed them on the press’s perception of Gamora, how they had seen so little of her that they were starting to suspect she was as cold as her reputation implied. It resulted in Gamora and Mantis switching places, much to her dismay.

“This can’t be good,” Gamora murmured. She and Peter were stood side-by-side in the lobby, near the reception area. “Quill, these are ex-criminals we’re dealing with. Someone’s going to recognize me from what was likely their worst memory, and it won’t end well.”

“There won’t be that many people. First day was super busy, but now? Nah,” Peter said, waving it off. “Besides, I’m here. I’ll fend ‘em off if you want me to.”

“Yes, because a few training sessions makes you an expert at combat all of a sudden,” Gamora said dryly.

“I mean if they start acting like assholes. They’re not dumb enough to start a fight,” Peter corrected. “And hey, gimme some credit. I’ve been doing pretty awesome lately, you said it yourself!”

“You throwing me on the mat every now and then doesn’t mean you can actually beat me,” she teased, relaxing.

“Give it a few more rounds and I just might,” he grinned, gently nudging her with his shoulder. Gamora smiled back, shaking her head with a soft huff of quiet laughter.

“Hey, Quill! Quit flirtin’ with your wife and help me move these boxes ‘fore everyone gets here!” Yondu hollered from down the hallway.

“I’m not - oh god,” Peter groaned. “I’ll be right back, ignore him - ”

“I always do,” Gamora called as he jogged away.

Once the facility had opened for the day, Gamora found herself keeping her guard up, smiling tightly at everyone who came through. Peter did most of the talking, shaking hands and explaining what the outreach center was for. To her surprise, many of the visitors weren’t ex-convicts, but rather, affluent society members looking to provide donations or sponsorship. “You look confused,” Peter whispered after yet another sweet, older couple dropped by to hand over a stack of blank cheques.

“Sometimes I forget...some people are just inherently good.” Gamora looked at him with a rueful smile. “Maybe these people have ulterior motives, maybe they’re seeking a monument in their name. Or a way to cover their sins. But maybe they just want to help.”

Peter paused. “You projecting a little?”

“Maybe,” Gamora repeated, shaking her head. “It’s things like this that make me wonder if...if going after your father will do more harm than good. This could be your and Mantis’s legacy - well, hers, mostly - and I’m just ruining the potential of it by asking you to help me kill my father.”

“Our legacy,” Peter corrected, “will be stopping him, once and for all. Don’t mean this place will be going anywhere. Don’t mean any of us have to go anywhere. I really like doing this, this helping people thing. Makes me feel useful. And hey, you’re welcome to join me.”

“You really want me to stay, don’t you?” Gamora said, biting her lip.

“You’re my friend, Gamora.” Peter’s eyes were earnest, sincere. “I like hanging out with my friends. And if I get to do cool stuff with my friends, like kick some ass and help save lives? Sounds like a pretty awesome legacy to me.” Before Gamora could respond, the door swung open. A pair of familiar-looking Nova officers marched in, dragging a trio of handcuffed convicts along between them. She inhaled sharply at the sight. Here we go.

“Your highnesses,” Denarian Saal droned, sounding as bored as ever. “Nova Prime has requested we register these prisoners for the high-level rehabilitation program. We have their biometrics and IDs.”

“Sign in with Bereet,” Peter replied, gesturing behind him towards the Krylorian receptionist. “I’ll go see if any of the counselors are available for consultations, though I think they’re pretty booked right now.”

Gamora watched him rather nervously as he left, now alone with the officers and the snarling prisoners, who were rattling their chains like they were still behind bars. It was a familiar sound, some grotesque melody that she had hoped to never hear again. One of them, a particularly ugly-looking Badoon, growled at her, deep and guttural.

“Princess Gamora,” he sneered mockingly. “What a joke. Who could look at a monster like you, and call you a princess?”

“Your words will not phase me,” she replied calmly. “So save your voice for your counselor. You will need it.”

“Did you feel like royalty when you tore apart my village, princess?” the Sneeper with pointy teeth hissed. “You must have been so proud, driving your sword into the heart of my child.” The chains rattled again, this time more threateningly.

“You really are wasting everyone’s time,” Gamora said, plastering a fake smile as one of the donors waved goodbye on their way out of the building. “Officers, are you done yet?”

“Does your husband know you leave death everywhere you walk? He must, since you killed your brother at your own wedding!” the Badoon chuckled gleefully.

It was then that Peter returned, followed by one of the counselors. “They’re ready for ‘em, officers,” he said cheerfully before joining Gamora once more. “What’d I miss?” he asked, completely oblivious.

“Do you share a bed with your wife, Prince Peter?” The last prisoner, a smug-looking Rajak, smirked lecherously.

“That’s - super inappropriate to ask, what the hell,” Peter grimaced. “Have you been dealing with these jerks while I was gone? I shouldn’t’ve left, sorry - ”

“It’s fine, Quill, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” Gamora said cooly.

“She doesn’t even call you by your name!” the Rajak hooted. “And here I thought, maybe the little princess found someone as bloodthirsty as she was. But you’re just her pet, aren’t you? Do you roll over and show your belly, your highness? Or maybe you get on your knees instead, I bet she likes that - ”

“Officers, I don’t think these prisoners are ready for the rehabilitation program,” Peter said loudly, looking to the receptionist’s desk. “Tell Nova Prime to send them back. Maybe we’ll get a counselor over to you instead.”

“One second,” Denarian Saal called back impatiently, clearly uninterested in anything Peter had to say.

“You should know, your highness, that your precious wife takes great pleasure in everything she does,” the Sneeper simpered, yanking especially hard on his chains. “There was a Levian I shared a cell with, back on the Kyln. He told me of the time a mysterious traveler appeared in his town, seeking shelter. The lord of the land took her in, thinking she was a fragile young woman. She seduced him, of course. Made him feel special. She left within the week, and took all of his money and heirlooms with her, but not before killing the mysterious life force that powered their hearts.”

“I - ” Gamora began, but the Badoon interrupted next.

“Did you ever hear of her last mission before she decided to settle down with you?” He smirked. “You must have heard of Ronan the Accuser, your highness. They were on their way to Morag, seeking the Infinity Stone together, but I guess that didn’t mean much to her. She practically tore him apart for looking at her wrong, before Thanos got there and decided to finish the job himself. Though can you blame him? Your wife is quite the looker, your highness, even when she’s drenched in blood.”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Peter said firmly. His hands were held high, the light glowing rather menacingly from his fingertips. “What, you think telling me that stuff is gonna make me change my mind? Or that talkin’ shit about my wife helps your case? You think it’s gonna make your lives any easier?”

“Quill, it’s not worth it,” Gamora insisted, reaching for him.

“You speak of good deeds while you stand beside the woman who carved the galaxy’s history with her sword,” the Rajak spat. “We’ve all heard tales of the infamous Prince Peter, the powerful, charismatic do-gooder, but from what I can see, he’s either a coward or just stupid.”

“Hey!” Gamora barked, stepping in front of Peter. She wasn’t sure when she had drawn her sword, but it now weighed heavy in her hands, ready to strike, and now he was the one attempting to pull her away. “Choose your next words wisely. And keep our names out of your filthy mouth.”

“Well, I - ” With an unceremonious cry, the three prisoners jolted violently before collapsing to the ground, revealing Denarian Dey standing behind them, brandishing his stun baton. Denarian Saal was stood nearby, looking even more unimpressed than usual.

“Sorry about that,” Denarian Dey said cheerfully. “We always thought these guys weren’t really ready yet, but Nova Prime seemed optimistic. Back to the Kyln they go!”

“You guys need to do a better job at screening these dudes,” Peter said, staring down at the unconscious bodies sprawled awkwardly on the floor. “Did you hear all that crap they just said about Gamora?”

“Well, it’s not like they were entirely...wrong,” Denarian Dey coughed awkwardly, looking nervously at Gamora. It was then that she realized he was eyeing her sword, still held high, and she quickly tucked it away. “Um, no offense, your highness.”

“None taken,” she said, letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, though her heart was still hammering wildly in her chest like some sick adrenaline rush. “As I said, nothing I haven’t heard before.”

The Nova officers dragged the unconscious prisoners out the door as the receptionist stared on, open-mouthed. Peter stepped closer to Gamora once the doors were shut, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “Hey, you okay?”

“I don’t need reassurance after every confrontation, you know,” Gamora said with a wobbly smile. “I’m fine. I can handle it myself.”

“I was thinkin’ you don’t have to,” Peter said, reluctant to let go. “You need someone, you got me.”

“I just...I need a moment. Alone.” Gamora pulled herself out of his grasp, though not unkindly.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Peter nodded sharply. “Uh, there’s a storage room back there that’s basically empty, so no one’s gonna barge in. I’ll come find you later?”

“Okay,” she repeated. She felt like she was operating on autopilot, her mind overwhelmed with all the images, the absolutely awful images that had come flooding back to her. The smell of blood was more familiar to her than the smell of flowers, the feeling of a weapon in her hands more comforting than the touch of another person. She wanted that to change - no, needed it to change.

Gamora looked up at Peter, wondering what he was thinking. What had he pictured in his mind when he first heard of her? Did he think she took pleasure in what she did? Did he know how far she had gone, how far gone she was? All she could see in his face was concern, not of her, but for her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I’ll cover for you if Nova Prime asks,” Peter added. “Though I think once she hears the story, she’ll probably apologize to you. Again.”

“She had hope,” Gamora shrugged. “She thought they were ready, and they weren’t. They were just as hungry and reckless as before.”

Peter looked at her consideringly. “You’re projecting again,” he said, though not accusingly. “You sure you wanna be alone with your thoughts?”

“Up until recently, they were all I had.” She took another step back, giving him a tight smile. “See you later, Quill.” ______

Hey.” Peter entered the storage room once Gamora had allowed him in, silently closing the door behind him. “Denarian Dey says they don’t have anyone else comin’ in, so you’re good to go back out whenever. Or, y’know, never. If you wanna just sit here.”

Gamora was sat, curled into herself, on the floor of the room, the fluorescent light only further emphasizing the exhaustion in her eyes. She looked... sad. Angry, hurt, even guilty, Peter thought he had seen it all on her before, but not like this. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“You want me to leave?” Peter asked. Wordlessly, Gamora shook her head. Peter approached her slowly as if she were akin to a spooked animal before sitting down across from her, legs folded beneath him. “That stuff they said about you - ”

“It’s all true,” Gamora interrupted. “And it’s like I told Nova Prime - having my record wiped doesn’t make me any less of a criminal. Marrying you doesn’t make me any less of a coward. I lost control again. I almost killed someone, and for what, for taunting me? For trying to get to you? Thanos was right. I am weak.”

“No, you are the bravest person I’ve ever met,” Peter insisted. “You came up with this plan all on your own because you couldn’t stand the idea of watching anyone else die. You betrayed Thanos by coming to me with your own agenda. You taught me about stuff I didn’t know I had in me, and you saved my life. That don’t sound weak to me.”

“A stronger person would have confronted Thanos from the beginning,” Gamora replied. “A stronger person would have accepted death, instead of being the cause of everyone else’s.”

“You were a kid,” Peter exclaimed. “You were scared, and alone. You had to fight for yourself. C’mon, Gamora. You wanna be a good person?”

“Yes, but - ”

“Then you start by giving a shit.” Peter said it so bluntly that Gamora couldn’t help but choke out a laugh. “I’m serious! And you’ve already done that by showin’ up here and tellin’ me you want to stop Thanos from destroying the galaxy. So don’t give up. I haven’t seen you do it yet, and I don’t think you’re about to start.”

Continuing to chuckle softly, Gamora unfurled her arms from around her knees, stretching out her legs until they brushed against Peter’s. He shivered a little at her touch. “Survival is what I’m best at,” she said. “And I’ll make sure to keep everyone safe, too. That’ll be my job.”

“There you go,” Peter grinned. “And Gamora...all those things you’ve done...you’re just tryna make them right. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“I guess I won’t know until it’s done.” Gamora stood slowly, brushing the dust off her pants. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually miss being on Ego. Xandar feels like a place I could never survive in.”

“Survive?”

“I meant live,” Gamora corrected, though even she didn’t look so sure. She paused. “Maybe there is no home for me after all. I could just be a wanderer after this. Float among the stars.”

“As weirdly poetic - and morbid - as that sounds, my offer is still on the table, if you aren’t sick of me yet,” Peter said half-jokingly, also getting to his feet.

“If I left the moment I was getting sick of you, I would have been gone within the first ten minutes,” Gamora said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll consider it. Ask me again after our fathers are dead.”

“Now there’s a sentence,” Peter whistled. “I’ll go grab Yondu and let ‘im know. Let’s go home.”

a/n: hey, all! not sure why i said i'd be posting this in the first two weeks of march when i knew very well that i had midterms, but i hope you enjoyed this (both late and short-er) chapter! next chapter will be late april, as I have a non-au peter/gamora oneshot that i'm hopefully posting on my birthday (second week of april) and i've got finals in mid-april.

the song peter was listening to in gamora's room is everybody plays the fool by the main ingredient. also, i’ve been getting requests for chapter previews lately, so feel free to do so by sending me an ask (though not right away, I just barely started writing chapter six, haha).

thanks so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and i'll see y'all in the next one!

[roselevesque]

Hello! So I am new to the Naruto fanbase itself (even though I have watched the show years ago) and I saw your post about sns and how homophobic the naruto fanbase is on tiktok and I got a little scared... So is the anime community in its entirety more homophobic on that app? Also is the naruto fanbase really homophobic in general? Asking because I don't need that kind of energy in my life so I don't want to stress myself out for no good reason haha. Thank you so much! (sorry this is so long)

I'll be honest with you, anon, from what I've seen the Anime community in general is pretty homophobic. The most obvious example I can give is the ongoing rhetoric about the MHA fanbase. I was an active part of it until around 2017-2018 and it can get toxic depending on who you interact with and what corner your reside in, but that applies to pretty much any fandom really and some people love to exaggerate how bad it actually is.

What do I mean by that? Well, on most non-tumblr social media platforms, you might find comments such as "Why can't the MHA fanbase ship normal ships?" ( read: straight ships ) or "Don't turn [redacted anime fandom] into the MHA fanbase" which is addressed often enough towards people who ship LGBT pairings.

Not to mention the idea that there are a significant number of people who ship stuff like Eri x Deku or Deku x All Might etc. and love sexualizing kids, when these actions are, in reality, not condoned by the fanbase. Thus they paint shippers, especially those of gay ships, in a bad light.

I could go longer into this, but that is beside the point, since you were asking about Naruto. The thing with Naruto is that it's a shounen battle series with a predominantly male cast and women that get less than adequate development and screen time.

As such, in the fanbase, you can find the kind of guys who use it as a power fantasy and refuse to imagine the possibility of two men being together because it's gross and "ruins canon" ( the kind of guys who are ok with two women together 'cause "it's hot", however not 2 men ), but you can also find girls who latch on either the female characters and their relationships and act homophobic towards LGBT shippers, because, again, they "ruin the canon", or do ship gay ships, but insert homophobic stereotypes into these relationships ( how one of the guys having to be more feminine than the other for example, despite both expressing their gender similarly in canon for example ).

Thankfully, the fanbase isn't as bad as it used to be around its peak and my suggestion is that, if you really like the show, you should try out the fandom and decide for yourself. My word isn't gospel after all, but I'm of the opinion that no matter what fandom you are part of there will always be segments of it that might hurt or stress you and the best thing to do is to regulate your online experience.

Filter tags, block accounts, don't look up stuff you think may upset you deeply. If 6 years of fandom has taught me anything is that this is crucial.

If you wish to avoid drama, I think sticking to the tumblr side is a good idea. Since the purge, most people migrated onto twitter and compared to what I've seen there, things are tame on this app.

As for tik tok...You can try it if you want, but it's a bit more difficult to escape stuff you dislike there than here, even if they have a tagging system as well. Sometimes, something you highly disagree with might pop on your "for you page" just because it's also tagged "Naruto". I'd say, overall, the anime community on Tik Tok is more homophobic in general compared to Tumblr, but that's to be expected given the nature of the two websites.

This answer was very long and I hope it's alright with you, since I wished to be thorough. Also, I hope my words will be helpful to you and you make whatever decision brings you happiness.

[cassiopeiassky]

When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 45

Random tidbit - this part contains some of the very first concepts that were written for this story.  Strap yourselves in, it’s an emotional roller coaster.  You’re welcome.

Plot:  When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.  

Word count: 3215

Warnings:

For the entire work:  Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst.  This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut.  If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Mentions of violence, death and physical assault, disturbing descriptions, panic attack, anxiety    If I need to add anything else, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.  If you don’t want me to publish the ask, I won’t, or you can feel free to do it as a Nonnie.  I will not take offense to any trigger warning requests.   Your well-being is important to me and I do NOT want to trigger anyone.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

“I love you so much, I’m so sorry.  I’m so fucking sorry, but I had to do it.  I had to, I had to be the Winter Soldier,” he mumbles into your hair repeatedly as his left arm wraps around your back to hold you close while his right hand cradles the back of your head.  

“You came back to me,” you whisper against his neck, and you feel him stiffen before he gently pushes you back so he can meet your eyes.  He stays quiet as he caresses your cheek and smooths back your hair, the small, broken smile on his face at odds with the heavy sorrow and remorse in his eyes.

When he finally breaks the silence, his voice cracks as he utters your name.  It takes another long moment before he speaks again.  “I never left.”

It takes you a minute to comprehend what he said.  “..Wh….what?”

“I never left.”  He runs his hands through his hair and takes a shallow breath before continuing.  “The trigger words don’t work anymore.”  He squeezes his eyes shut.  “Wanda was thorough.  She found the backup triggers and disabled those, too.  I guess I didn’t think to tell you about them because they were never used on me.  Didn’t seem important.”

It feels like the bed has fallen from underneath you, almost like reality has shifted.  “Wait…but…but I saw…but…you hit me.”

Bucky moves as though he’s going to reach out to touch you, but stops himself.  “I know, Sweetheart, I know.  I was faking it.  The whole time, I was faking it.  When I did that…I did it.  I am so sorry.  I just…I couldn’t find another way.  We couldn’t find a way around that goddamn collar.  It was the only thing I could come up with to get me close enough to you to protect you, and to eventually get you out.”  The sincerity in his eyes twists at your heart; he looks so broken.

You don’t know what you’re feeling right now.  It’s too much, it’s just too goddamn much.  Have you finally lost it?  Is this even real?  You want it to be real, right?  But how. How?  How could someone go to such lengths and pay such a price?  

A price.  

Oh God.

“You killed Steve.” You say it quietly, and suddenly you can’t breathe.  “Oh, God, you killed Steve!”  The enormity of what’s been done overwhelms you and throws you into a full-blown panic attack.  How could he?  How?!

“Oh shit, no,” Bucky surges forward, softly cupping your face with his hands; the cool metal on your right cheek is soothing on your bruised skin but the temperature contrast shocks you enough to focus on his words.  “I need you to breathe, Sweetheart.  Breathe for me,” he croons before taking you through a grounding exercise; the same one that you’d used to help him.  “Give me five things you can see, Sweetheart, five things.”  

You hold onto his voice – and his forearms – like a lifeline.

“Um, you.  I see you.”  Focus on him right now and nothing else.  Breathe.

“Good, what else?” His voice is so soothing; soft and sure like it used to be when you were at the safehouse with him.  You pay close attention to the timbre of his voice, to the traces of the Brooklyn accent that shapes his words, and to the clarity and warmth in his eyes.  This is your Bucky, the man sitting in front of you. He’s here, finally.  The pressure eases somewhat.

You’re able to take deep, even breaths when the exercise is completed; you wouldn’t go as far as to say you’re good, but you’re definitely better.

“Okay?” he asks softly; it’s an inadequate word for the situation, but you know what he means.  

“Okay,” you confirm with a small nod.  

“Good.  I gotta tell you something, but it’s gonna sound crazy so I need you to hear me out, okay?”  At your slow, careful nod, Bucky licks his lips and brushes his thumbs lightly over your cheeks before speaking again.  “Steve’s alive.  He’s fine, he –“

Umm.  No.  Your brain isn’t having this.  “What? No.  Bucky, he’s not fine.”  You sit up straighter and pull out of Bucky’s gentle hold.  “They served his head, literally, on a fucking silver platter! He’s the opposite of fine!”  You can feel your chest constricting again as your body fights another wave of hysteria.

“No, Sweetheart, no!” His hands grip your upper arms, holding you still and grounding you into the moment so he can capture your attention.  “What you saw was basically a movie prop made with animal…parts.  Remnants from a slaughterhouse, I think.”  He continues quickly when your eyes grow wide, “It wasn’t really Steve.  He’s alive, pissed off but alive, in a cottage in the middle of the woods about 20 miles south of here with the rest of the team.”  Bucky pauses to watch your reaction carefully, and when you remain still he continues, “Before we left, Stark called in a few favors to some of the people he always mentions he knows, said he wanted to be prepared for anything.  I guess he’s good friends with the prop designer for some apocalyptic zombie horror show, so he called his buddy and asked him to design and create decomposable replicas of the entire team.  That’s why I was gone so long; we had to wait for it to get shipped here, and then to, uh, thaw.  It was…it’s a disgusting process.”  He pulls a face and you feel the tiniest of smiles form in response.  “It even fooled me when Stark opened the box - creepiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.  I’m so sorry to scare you like that, but it wasn’t really Steve, I promise.”

You sit back on your heels, dumbfounded and relieved.  And thoroughly grossed out.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers again as he reluctantly removes his hands from your arms.  You can only stare at him.  “Sweetheart, I swear, the only people I’ve killed since coming to Siberia are Krakken’s men.  That…that feels really fucking bizarre to say, but it’s true.  Those are the only deaths that weren’t staged.”

It’s almost dizzying how fast your brain is trying to work in order to process all of the information. It’s fucking surreal, and you have so many questions, and even though he’s sitting in front of you it still feels like it’s a dream and he’s going to disappear if you blink.

“So...your missions? Those families?”

“They’re fine.  Most of them are on vacation, actually.  The few that stayed in the country went to their vacation homes.”

What you’d been told and what you’re hearing now are violently colliding in your mind; one brought untold grief, but the other promises healing.  The echoing contradictions make it hard to keep up with what he’s saying, and you’re so scared that he isn’t really here, that you finally just fell off the cliff into a raging sea of insanity and are imagining him, whole, in front of you.  Despite this, you hear the spark of hope in your voice.  “How in…What?”

He nods.  “We got here the day after you did.  Stark’s been negotiating almost non-stop with the other nearby Pakhan since we arrived.  Turns out the Krakkens aren’t all that popular around here; apparently they don’t follow the rules and play nice, and they haven’t been upholding the code of honor that ties the Pahkan brotherhood together.  There’s so much betrayal and bad blood between most families and the Krakkens that when Stark offered to take care of the problem, and then added stock options and patents to the deal, they were all fairly eager to accept.”

The wave of relief that washes over you actually manages to clear your mind somewhat.  “Really?  No kids died?”

He shakes his head.  “No, Sweetheart, no kids died.  Those deaths were all staged.  And if I’m not mistaken, Stark sent all of the families with young kids to Disney theme parks.”

The intricacy of their plan is astounding, to say the least.  “Holy shit,” you mutter under your breath, as you finally, finally allow yourself to truly feel hopeful about getting the hell out of this pit.  “So you’ve all been here almost the entire time?  They were the ones taking out Krakken’s men?”

“Yes, we’ve been here almost as long as you have; Sweetheart, we’ve been working on getting you back since the second Anatoliy drove away with you.  And no, they weren’t taking out Krakken’s men – I didn’t want to risk them getting too close and getting caught, and losing the element of surprise. That was me.”

That’s…woah.  “That was you?  How?  You were with me at least one of those nights, right?  Or was it two?” You struggle to remember; anxiety certainly doesn’t do your memory any favors.

Bucky gazes at you with soft eyes.  “Sweetheart, it would take me until the end of forever to forget all the little details of you that I memorized, and although it feels that long, it’s only been a few weeks.  I know all your little tells - I know when I can kiss your shoulder and you’ll wake, and when I can shift your entire body to bring you closer to me without you so much as twitching a muscle - so I just waited until you were in a deep sleep.  You were so exhausted that I knew I wouldn’t wake you.”

“But…how?”  

Bucky shrugs.  “They wanted the Winter Soldier.  They got him.  What can I say, for better or worse I’m a damn good assassin.  And since Stark compromised their security system the day after we got here, it was easy to pick them off while they slept.”  Bucky’s expression darkens.  “Metzger’s reaping what his uncle sowed.  I’m not at all sorry about those men, and there’s gonna be more before this is over.”  

“Wait.”  You hold up a hand as another emotion starts bubbling up; anger.  “You’ve had control of the cameras?  You said when you came in that it was safe to talk, right?  That’s because their system is hacked?”  

He nods, seeming to brace himself for what’s coming.

Good.

“So we could’ve had this talk days ago.”  At his slight nod, you continue, “What the fuck, Bucky?!  You could have told me what was going on!  I didn’t have to believe that you killed kids, or that you fucking killed Steve!  Do you know what that did to me??  I was so fucking worried about you, and what would happen to your mind when you realized what you’d done!!”  Your voice grows thick as tears threaten to fall.  “God, I thought I fucking lost you!”  

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t tell you; it was too big a risk.”  You open your mouth to disagree when he speaks again, “They have three separate psychologists monitoring you.  Three. It’s part of his sick game; they watch you and basically tell him how far he can go – how much you can handle – before you break.  It’s how he knew to have tranquilizers ready for tonight; that wasn’t a coincidence, or even for worst case scenario.  He knew how you’d react – his doctors told him. If I’d told you everything earlier, they would have known your distress wasn’t genuine.  They would have known if you faked the reaction to the head.  They would have known, and it would have put your safety at risk.  I wanted to tell you - and I almost did, more than once - but Sweetheart, even when you’re guarded and not open about sharing how you feel, you’re still terrible at hiding your emotions.  It’s not a bad thing – it’s actually just one of the countless reasons why I fell for you so fast – but in this situation it could have gotten you killed.  I couldn’t take the risk.”

Well…goddamn it, he has a point there.  Shit.

He could read you like an open book, whether or not you thought your cover was closed.  From the very beginning, Bucky saw through your “I’m fine” and moments of uneasy quiet every goddamn time, even if he didn’t call you out on it.  Hell, trying to hide your emotions was something you’d done for years with Christopher, but even after all that practice, even Christopher knew when something was up; he just didn’t give a shit unless your mood bothered him.  You feel your anger begin to deflate. Bucky’s right – you would have blown it.

He looks over to you before looking down at his hands.  “God, I promise, I didn’t want to hurt you, or terrify you, or leave you alone.  Can I explain my reasoning?  Or do you just want to hear the plan to get you out?”

You look down and stare at the bedspread bunched between you and him while you attempt to gather your thoughts.  You know without a doubt that he loves you more than he loves himself, and you know he would never want to hurt you, mentally, physically, or emotionally.  He had to have had a damn good reason to do what he did - it wasn’t exactly like any of this could have been easy for him - and suddenly some of the pieces start to fall together.

You’d had no broken bones, just some bruising and a few cuts from when he was ordered to attack you. Sure, you were sore, but not ‘holy shit I was attacked by the Winter Soldier’ kind of sore, but more of an ‘I’ve been training with Bucky’ kind of sore.  Well, maybe a little worse than that, but definitely not as bad as having your ass handed to you a trained, cybernetically enhanced assassin.  You weren’t taking the hits extraordinarily well – he’d been pulling his punches. So much so, now that you think about it, you wonder how no one noticed. Thinking back on it, you realize that every time he ‘attacked’ you, he kept himself between you and the others, effectively blocking their view so they couldn’t see everything.  You also wonder how it hadn’t been blatantly obvious to you, especially with the split second he’d hold his hand before striking you – that was deliberate, to let you know how to absorb the hit.  And then he made you pass out, to end it all as quickly as possible while doing minimal damage.

He hit you, yes, because if he didn’t, someone else would have.  And it would have been far, far worse.  It would have been Grigory.  Or Anatoliy. Or both.  Maybe even all of the Hounds, if Bucky had refused.

And he willingly kept you in the dark; he let you think he’d killed Steve, for fuck’s sake.  But he’s right – you wouldn’t have been able to fake it – you probably would’ve accidentally compromised the team and gotten everyone killed.

Fuck.  It’s too much to take in, but you can’t fall apart; you don’t have that luxury.  You need to take what you know – that Bucky and the others have been working non-stop to get you back and that they’re doing what they need to do in order to accomplish this – and you need to fix your mind on that.  If you get back to Artie and Jimmy, and back to Bucky, the end justifies the means.  It’s easier to understand if you look at it from that point of view.

Fuck, you’re going to need a shit-ton of therapy after this.  Still, for the moment, you know what’s real.

Looking back up at Bucky, you take a moment to drink him in; he must have taken your lack of a reply to his questions as a silent demand to be left alone.  Studying the dejected curve of his shoulders and downturned head, you say the only thing you can think to say; the only thing that really matters at this point.  “Bucky, I trust you.”  It’s the truth.  You don’t have to like his methods, but at the end of the day, you trust him; there really weren’t any other options.

He looks to you, surprised.

“I mean, I’m not thrilled about it…we’ll, uh, we’ll have to talk about some more it later, I think, but the alternative was much worse.”

Bucky stares at you with the teeniest, tiniest bit of hope in his eyes, but says nothing.

“You didn’t have a choice. Well, technically you did, but I know what that choice was – Bucky, those men weren’t going to pull their punches if they beat me, and they sure as hell weren’t going to be gentle if they raped me.  I don’t have to like it, but you being the Winter Soldier me kept me much safer in the long run.”  

He flinches at your words, but nods.  “I’m so incredibly sorry.  Please know that it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”  He looks miserable yet resolute when he speaks again, “I’d do it all over again, though, to keep Krakken’s men off you.  Even if I end up losing you – at least you’ll be alive. That’ll be enough for me.”

More pieces click together. “This is why you kept asking me to forgive you when Nicolai was saying the trigger words…isn’t it…”

Bucky nods.  “I don’t expect you to-“

“Buck, don’t,” you’re quick to interrupt him with a gentle hand on his forearm.  “Just don’t.  Don’t push me away to punish yourself, and don’t act like this is the end.  Neither of us deserves that.  Look, we’re going to have to deal with the fallout when we get home, but we’re going home.  Together.  Home. You and I.  Okay?  I love you, and I’m not giving you up just because some motherfucking cockjockey and his evil twatsickle of a brother decided to involve us in their fucked-up plan to take over the world.   You’re doing the best you can with what you have – this isn’t your fault, okay?”

“…But…”

“But nothing, goddamn it. But nothing!  They gave you impossible choices, Buck.  I don’t blame you for choosing the way you did.  Hey,” you pause and gently cradle your hands to his face to lift his head when he ducks to avoid your eyes.  “If you need to hear the words, I’ll say them.  I’m thankful you made the choice you did.  I’m thankful, because it means that I get to go home to you and our boys.  I forgive you, Bucky.  I’ll say it as many times as you need me to, but just know that I’m also going to tell you that there’s nothing to forgive because I don’t blame you.  This is on the Krakkens, not you.  You’ve fought them too hard for too long – don’t give them the consolation prize of tearing us apart.”

He quickly pulls you into a bone cracking embrace, holding you close and tight until you’re convinced that he actually listened to you.

“You’re comin’ home?  With me?” he asks in a rough whisper with his face buried in your neck.

“You’re goddamn right I am.” Like you’d ever answer any differently.

He pulls away to stare at you a moment before kissing you fiercely.  In the instant that his lips capture yours, everything wrong in the world ceases to exist and it’s just you and Bucky.  It’s in this moment, this very second, that you finally accept that you’re not imagining this; he’s real and he’s here.  And he’s taking you home.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles when he reluctantly breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours.  “I know this isn’t the time or place, I just needed to feel you, to convince myself that I’m really here with you.”

You huff a quiet laugh in response as your fingers caress his scruff.  “Don’t be, I was just thinking the exact same thing."

You each hold the other, taking the opportunity to breathe each other in.  Like all good things, it can’t last nearly long enough.  

Bucky pulls away, but remains close enough to maintain bodily contact.  “I need to check in with Stark, Sweetheart.  We’re getting you out of here tonight.”

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[elliotthezubat]

DEATH CITY DAYS GAIDEN 27; THE ARMED DETECTIVE AGENCY’S HOLY NIGHT (non-canon)

a non-canon Christmas special loosely based on the Christmas event on the BSD anime’s twitter

-December 24- atsushi: everyone ready for tomorrow? Kyoka: *holding a bear trap* "Almost..." Sylvia: I-I'm not sure w-what exactly to do t-tomorrow....m-mr ted never let me... atsushi:...um...kyouka? Kunikida: "Well, the first step is to find presents for those you care about--" Dazai: *shiny eyes* Kunikida: "..." *presses Dazai away, hand over face* "Or ones you tolerate. And are forced to buy for secret Santa." Kyoka: "...What?" Sylvia: I-is t-that right? Kunikida: *nods* "Any gifts you were thinking about? Perhaps for Kyoka?" sylvia: .///. u-um... atsushi: kyouka, what are you doing exactly? ^^;; Kyoka: "I will capture the Santa." atsushi: *sweatdrop* eh? Kyoka: "He comes into houses, yes? Then I will make sure he dosn't escape." *pulls out taser* atsushi: ._. k-kyouka... Kyoka: "Don't worry, I was thorough. I even put traps into the bathroom." atsushi: but what if I have to do my business at night?! -morning- kirako:..? kyouka? are you ok? atsushi: well... Kyoka: -3- "I was unable to apprehend the Santa." kirako:...*blinks* Kyoka: "Not one trap worked. I mean, I captured Atsushi, but that's pretty easy." atsushi: good thing I can regenerate TT3TT Kyoka: "I said I was sorry." *holds up a wrapped box* atsushi: TTuTT; Naomi: oh, there you guys are! we got presents! kenji: ^^ Kyoka: "??? Where did they come from?" Naomi: seems santa left all the gifts in our room. ^^; but still, everyone got something, right? ranpo: YES! Kyoka: *picks up a box* "...This one will have coal." atsushi: *looks at the tag; for dazai* ._.; k-kyouka... Kyoka: "???" Dazai: TwT kirako: speaking of which, where were you yesterday? Dazai: "..." *smiles* "Just...shopping." atsushi: .... odasaku: something on your mind? atsushi: (I want to get him something that might make him happy) Dazai: *sits in the chair, staring at the fireplace* "..." odasaku: …well, I heard there was a Christmas plaza at the market today, maybe something from there? atsushi: sounds good. Kunkida: “What sounds good?” atsushi: !! kunikida, may I go to the Christmas bazaar by any chance? Kunikida: "Oh, sure." *hands him a list* "Pick these up as well." atsushi: thank you sir! *exits* sylva: m-m-mr atsushi wait! atsushi: ?? sylvia: c-can I come with you? I-I want to get something nice for m-miss kyouka, so... atsushi:...sure thing. ^^ ranpo: be back by 7, ok? -and so- atsushi: now lets see, what would dazai like? hmm.... sylvia: *looking around* ???: "ELISE! Come back!" atsushi: O_O sylvia stay close to me. sylvia: e-eh? Mori: "Elise! Where are you?!" *spots Atsushi and Sylvia* QwQ; atsushi: do not make eye contact! sylvia: ._.;;; uhhhhhhh.... Mori: "Atsushi! Hello!" *grabs his hand, shakes* "Good to see you!" *stares at Sylvia* sylvia: *looking away nervously* atsushi: ^^;;;;; *SCREAMS INTERNALLY* Mori: "What an adorable little moffett? And what do you want Santa Mori to give you for Christmas, little miss~?" atsushi: we were just leaving now, hope you find your friend! elise: hey rintarou. Mori: *shiny eyes* "ELISE! WHERE DID YOU DISAPPEAR TO?!" elise: rain's stuck. again. rain: *in a skimpy reindeer costume and tied with ribbons* someone please get me down! TTATT atsushi: .____.;; sylvia: ._.;;; Mori: "..." *takes out his phone, snaps a picture* rain: YOU'RE TERRIBLE!! >A< Mori: "But predictable~ Now, what will this do..." *looks at one ribbon* rain: Q~Q;;;; Mori: "Let's test it~" *gives it a tug* Akutagawa: *walking by--spots Rain* "???" -squeeze- rain: STOOOOP!! TTATT atsushi: *trying to walk away quickly with sylvia* Mori: ^w^ Akutagawa: *sighs* *calls out* "Okay! Get ready, I'm going to cut..." Mori: "??? Akutagawa? What are you--?" *slice* *Rain falls down* rain: EEP! *catch* rain: ah! Chuuya: "Um...Hello." ^\\\^ rain: o///o t-t-thank you mr nakahara... Chuuya: "..." *looks at her* .\\\\. "Um...I didn't want to spoil it, but I guess now is the best time..." *sets her down, reaches into his shopping bag--and removes a brand-new coat* "H-Here. Make yourself decent..." rain:...*she puts it on* t-thank you... .///. elise: =3= come on you guys, those cakes wont buy themselves! atsushi: so it was a happy ending after all. ^^; Chuuya: ^\\\^; "You're welcome...Merry Christmas!" elise:....hey you, bag eyes. sylvia: ?? elise: don't talk to rintarou, he's gross. sylvia: um...o-ok... Mori: Q_Q Akutagawa: *eyeroll--and then sees--* "...!!!" *stares at Atsushi* atsushi: O_O >->;;;;;;;;; sylvia come on lets go now- Akutagawa: "Stop. You need your gift." atsushi: um.....thank you? I think? Akutagawa: *pulls out...a ball of yarn* atsushi:....thank you...I guess? here's....yours? *hands him some loose change, a paperclip, and a pack of gum* Akutagawa: "...I don't like spearmint. I like peppermint." atsushi: oh, *hands him a peppermint candy* Akutagawa: "..." *trying to hide shiny eyes* "Th-Thanks..." >\\\> atsushi: we're gonna go now bye *FLEES WITH SYLVIA* Akutagawa: "..." -3- -later- sylvia: hmmm...we still haven't found anything... QAQ Atsushi: TwT "Well, they are notoriously difficult...And batteries for Kyoka's taser would just encourage worse behavior." ???: oh? are you two in need of some help? sylvia: ?? -a person with long white hair smiles at them- Atsushi: "???" *stares* "...Just...looking..." ???: for something to give them?? hmm...*hands them a pair of gemstones* its not much, but I'm sure they will appreciate it. ^^ syvlia: ah! t-t-thank you- ???: its no problem at all, young one...*looks at atsushi* although I wonder...that man... Atsushi: OwO "...'Man'?" ???: in the bandages....do you really thing what he desires most is something of the material world? Atsushi: "...I mean, I had ideas of something...if not for him than maybe...Um...I-I don't know..." -the person has disappeared...- sylvia: ...ah! w-we should h-head back now! Atsushi: "B-But I haven't...I wanted..." *defeated sigh* -and so- Kunikida: "You're late." atsushi: sorry, sir. sylvia: m-m-miss kyouka! miss kyouka! miss kyo-... o///o atsushi:...whats with the costumes? yosano: director's orders fukuzawa: *in a santa beard* Kyoka: "...Hi, Sylvia." Tanizaki: *in an elf costume* ._. sylvia:...l-l-look! *hands her one of the gemstones* Kyoka: *shiny eyes* "Ooooo...Sylvia, it's beautiful." *smiles* sylvia: s-santa gave them to us! Kyoka: "..." *sets down the gem* "Which way did he go?" sylvia: I-I don't know, they just vanished.......santa was way more androgynous than I thought. yosano:...u..huh... Kyoka: *shakes her fist* "Next year, Santa...Next year." atsushi:...say, where is dazai? I wanted to talk to him. Kunikida: "He said something about 'tying up loose ends'-- ...Oh, sprinkles." *runs to his apartment* *breeze is felt through an open window* Dazai: *pops up behind Atsushi* "??? Where did Kunikida run off to?" atsushi: back to the apartments I think... *hoists dazai in* Dazai: "UMPH!" *crashes face-first onto the floor* "...Well, I was just there--was fixing the blinds in the baby's nursery, tying up loose ends--" atsushi: oh.. ^^; Dazai: *looks around* "Looks like everyone got their gifts..." atsushi:...almost....*sigh*.... Dazai: "??? What's wrong? I haven't seen you all day." atsushi:...I was trying to find a gift for you, but in the end, I couldn't find anything.....what is it you want for Christmas? Dazai: "..." *smiles, holds up two bottles* "Look what I got from Kunikida's desk drawer." atsushi:....dazai, please...I just want to know so I could...I dunno...make you feel a bit better? I guess? Dazai: "..." *sits down, grabs two glasses, pours drinks into each one* "Sit." atsushi: *takes a seat* Dazai: *hands him a drink* "Tell me something--you happy with this year?" atsushi:...yeah, I guess so. we've got a new member, and things seem to be doing well for the agency. Dazai: "..." *smiles* "Good. That's enough..." atsushi: ?? Dazai: ^w^ "If you're happy, I'm happy. And that's a pretty good gift." atsushi:....I guess so.... (still....) odasaku:....don't try to force it. let him open up when he feels like it. then just listen, let him vent. ok? atsushi:...(ok) Dazai: *looks at the Christmas lights...smiles* "Here's hoping we're doing this again next year." atsushi: yeah...merry Christmas.